Much Ado about the Shrew (6 page)

           
Ben
groaned internally as he faced yet another evening Bee-watching, as he now
called it. For God's sake, for a woman who was almost on the shelf, she
certainly was being invited to an abnormally ample amount of parties. Ben had
to admit that he should not be surprised; Bee was an heiress, and even though
she spoke her mind quite frankly, it did not deter many of the young bucks and
fortune hunters from lusting after her. He rolled his shoulders back and
sighed, glad in some way that at least that Welles and Milford had refused to
attend this particular ball. Usually he would have appreciated their buffer
amongst the crowd, but tonight he would merely have had to listen to their
complaining all evening long.

           
 
"Lord Hereford is not only a bore,"
Milford had remarked earlier that week, "but I have it on good authority
that he doesn't drink. That is not only blasphemous in and of itself, but do
you know what else it means?"

           
"I'm
sure you're going to tell me," Ben had said, pinching the bridge of his
nose.

           
"That
means there will be no alcohol there
for
me
," Milford said severely. "I fear I must draw the line; I
refuse to chase after Lady Beatrice when there is nothing stronger than
champagne to be had."

           
"It's
really a moral conflict," Welles said conspiratorially.

           
"Et
tú
?" Ben asked him, looking up.
 

           
Welles
just shrugged. "What about Lennox?" he asked. "Isn't he
escorting her there?"

           
"As
you noticed, he means well, but he's a bit... thick."

           
"Don't
you find these evenings a bit, well... tedious?" Welles asked.

           
"Damn
right I do," Ben growled. "But Bee is an heiress, with a dowry of
thirty thousand pounds. She's at risk from every fortune hunter out
there."

           
Milford
whistled at the sum. "And you're firm on the 'just a sister,' part,
correct?"

           
"Definitely,"
Ben said forcefully.

           
"Alas,
then not even our friendship could draw me tonight. I shall have to entertain
myself in the hells."

           
"And
I," Welles said. "I must ensure this... miscreant... does not
overextend himself."
           
Ben rolled his eyes.
"Specious, to be sure," he said. "But, no matter. I shall brave
the debutantes alone."

           
"You
are a better man than we," Milford said. "Which reminds me why I
don't want to be a better man."

           
Ben
did not feel like a good man as he scanned the crowd at the too-packed ball; he
felt hot, tired, and frustrated. Bee was nowhere in sight, even though when he
checked in with Lennox this afternoon he had clarified that they were attending
Lord Hereford's ball tonight.

           
Ben
examined the crowd again. The debutants were dressed in white and pale pink and
blue dresses, which was fortunate as it allowed him to avoid them. Bee, being
older, was allowed to wear bolder colors than the 16 and 18 year-olds, so Ben
focused on the flashing greens and blues on the ballroom floor. Lennox, he noticed,
was on the dance floor with a young lady, although Bee was nowhere in sight. He
cursed himself again both for his promise to Bee's brother, and for not
insisting that he ride in the carriage with Bee and Lennox. Taking a deep
breath, he decided he needed to focus more on finding Bee a husband; that would
eliminate his need to follow her from ball to ball every night.

           
And
then he saw her; a flash of green with wild red hair out of the corner of his
eye. He sighed in relief; Bee was talking with some young
git
near outside ballroom doors, but just inside for the sake of decorum. The man
seemed harmless enough from across the ballroom; he wasn't standing too closely
to Bee, and seemed to be making rather placid conversation.
 
Ben made his way around the room slowly;
there was no need to rush now that he knew where she was.

           
But
then he didn't. When he got to the French doors, Bee and the man with whom she
had been talking were nowhere in sight.
 
Ben cursed under his breath, and an elderly matron standing next to him
gave him a stern look. "Apologies," he muttered, glancing around to
see where Bee had slipped off to. It was not difficult to discern, however,
that she and her gentleman "friend" had gone out for a stroll in the
gardens; several couples were walking about, taking in the fresh air. Ben
cursed again, and headed outside.

           
It
was unseasonably warm outside, which was most likely why so many couples had
decided to brave the gardens instead of the watchful eyes of the chaperones
inside.
 
Many a marriage was
necessitated, however, because of some indiscretion out in the gardens at a
ball, Ben knew, and he was determined that Bee would not be party to such a
thing. Whether she wanted to or not, he amended in his head.

           
Ben
wove his way through the manicured hedges and rosebushes. He slipped as
unobtrusively as he could passed giggling couples who had conveniently stopped
to ponder the smell or meaning of a statue or flower. He was close to giving up
and returning to the ballroom, when he heard Bee's voice in an alcove up ahead.

           
"
Sssh
!" she said. "We don't want everyone to
hear!"

           
"But
why not, my darling flower?" said the young man. "Do you not want to
pronounce our love to the world?"

           
Oh, good Lord. Darling flower?

           
"First
I want to kiss you," Bee said. "Then we will decide if there is love
to be had."

           
Ben
felt all of the blood rush to his head; that had to be the reason that he was
literally seeing red at that moment. Without another thought, he rushed forward
and saw the young man with his hands on Bee's shoulders, leaning his head down
towards hers. With a roar, he grabbed the young man by the jacket, twisting him
and throwing him to the ground.

           
Bee
shrieked, then quickly covered her mouth. "What are you- Ben!" she
said in a shouting whisper.

           
"Ow!
What the devil?" the man said, sitting up on his elbows.
       

           
Ben
ignored them both. "I don't know what the bloody hell you think
were
doing, but think again. She is not for you," he
said menacingly to the man on the ground. "If I see you near her again, I
will hunt you down."

           
"We
weren't doing anything," the man whined.

           
Oh, bloody hell, he was a whiner.

           
"
Begone
," Ben said. "Now, before I change my mind
and give you a more permanent reason not to sneak off to take advantage of a
woman."

           
"But
she was the one-" the man said as he drew to his feet.

           
"The
eye or the nose?" Ben asked, advancing on the young man, his fists
clenched tightly.

           
"No-
neither!" he said, tripping as he scuffled backwards on the gravel.
"I'm going! I'm going!" He quickly turned and ran back towards the
direction of the house.

           
Ben
stood, fists opening and closing, breathing heavily, and stared at the young
man's retreating form for several moments. He knew he would have to face Bee
eventually; would she be angry? Furious? Afraid? Dammit, he wasn't afraid of a
woman's reaction. He hoped there wouldn't be tears. God, how he hated tears.

           
There
were no tears. Bee's eyes were shooting daggers at him. "What was
that?" she said icily.

           
"Playing
your chaperone," Ben bit off angrily, trying to get his breathing under
control.
 
He clenched and unclenched his
fists. God, he wanted drag that chap back and pummel him.

           
"I
don't believe I gave you leave to be my chaperone," Bee glared,
interrupting Ben’s thoughts.

           
Without
thinking, Ben said in clipped tones, "No? Well, your brother did."

           
Bee
staggered back a step. "My brother?" she said, her face softening.

           
"Yes,
I..." Ben took a deep breath. He had never told her about his last
conversation with William. "He was my friend, and you're his sister,"
he ended lamely.

           
"Oh,"
Bee said. She seemed sadly disappointed with his answer, but he did not feel
like reliving those final moments, not now.

           
Noticing
that the tension had broken with the mention of William, Ben sighed.
"Come," he said, offering his arm. "We should get back to the
ballroom before you are missed."

           
"Yes,"
Bee mumbled, "of course."
 
Mentioning her brother had immediately deflated all of her anger,
lending a sense of despondency to her air, although Ben could not discern that
there was a reason why. He had saved her from making a terrible mistake with a
young pup of a lad who, even if he didn't ruin her, certainly was not worth her
time.

           
"Why
did you go out walking with that man, anyway?" Ben asked as they neared
the house.

           
"Well,
I'm 24, you know," Bee said.

           
"And?"

           
"Well,
I've never been kissed," Bee said matter-of-factly.

           
Ben
stumbled on the stone path. "Pardon?"

           
"It's
not as if I expected a marriage proposal to come of it," she said. "I
just wanted to see what the fuss was about, is all."

           
"The
fuss? Bee, do you realize that-"

           
But
he was cut off as they reached the ballroom doors, and she unhinged her arm
from his. "Oh, we're here. Thank you so much, Lord Kendal, for escorting
me back. I certainly would have been lost in the garden much longer if it were
not for your help," she said a little too loudly, as if expecting people
to eavesdrop on their conversation. "I will tell my cousins you give them
the best. Good evening."
 
And with
that, she slipped into the crowd.

           
Ben
stood dumbly, not certain what had just happened. One minute he was chastising
Bee, then next she was gone. Really, the woman was vexing! He rubbed his hand
along his jaw, massaging the muscles that had tightened there. He would
continue to watch Bee tonight, but tomorrow, by God, they were having a
discussion as he was getting too old to throw young men off of women.

           
Ben
slipped back into the ball and made a circuitous route around the large room.
Bee was nowhere to be seen
again
,
damn it all.
 
He wondered why he was
wasting his time; if the silly woman wanted to be ruined and married to a
fortune hunter, then who was he to even care? It wasn't
his
fault that her brother had challenged Surrey over some
dishonorable chit. It wasn't
his
relative who was scheduling clandestine meetings in the gardens, challenging
young bucks to kiss her. It wasn't
his
dearest love who was flirting with dandies.

           
She
wasn't
his dearest love, Ben reminded
himself. She just wasn't.

           
And
his heart
didn't
race just a little
when he caught sight of her near the corner of the room, holding court with not
one, but
three
idiotic young
men.
 
It was
not
jealousy he was feeling as she batted her eyes and smiled at
them. They were not merely hanging on her every word, but were literally
panting after her, and he hoped that he had never sunk so low when he was
younger. Or, at least that's what Ben told himself as he headed straight for
the woman who was
not
his dearest
love.

           
Not. His. Dearest. Love.

           
"Lady Beatrice,"
Ben said, breaking through the gaggle of idiots who had surrounded Bee. Ben
looked disgustedly at the young men who seemed enraptured with everything Bee
had to say, as well as with the rise and fall of her
décollatege
.