Much Ado about the Shrew (7 page)

           
Bee
looked up and narrowed her eyes at him, warning him off, before she turned to
one of the men on her left. "Of course I love poetry," she told him.
"Do you know any?"

           
The
young man stood up straighter, and said in a theatrical tone, "She walks
in beauty, like the night...."

           
"Oh,
please tell me you're not quoting Byron in the middle of a ballroom," Ben
said testily.

           
The
young man looked over angrily. "I do not appreciate being
interrupted.
 
The conversation was
between myself and Lady Beatrice."

           
"And,
apparently five of your closest friends," Ben nodded, noting the other
young men surrounding Bee.

           
"Now,
see here," the man spouted.

           
Bee
put her hand gently on the young man's sleeve. "Lord Norton, thank you, so
much. Perhaps this is not the appropriate venue, but I do so look forward to
listening to you at another time. Will you be at Lady Sotheby's garden party
tomorrow?"

           
Norton
looked at Ben, then looked over at Bee. His nostrils flared for a moment, then
he took a breath and visibly relaxed. "Yes, I shall," he said.
"I look forward to talking with you at length at that time. If you'll pray
excuse me?" With a short bow he turned, giving Ben a glare before walking
away.

           
Ben
shrugged. "Poetry, my dear?"

           
"Poetry
is food for the soul, my lord," Bee said.

           
"Well
said," a young buck to her right noted. Ben frowned at him, and the man
shrank back a bit, but did not leave.

           
"In
faith I do not love thee with mine eyes, for they in thee a thousand errors
note," Ben quoted.

           
Bee
frowned and tilted her head. Ben noticed how graceful her lovely neck truly
was. And her skin looked so soft, he could imagine caressing a finger from her
earlobe down her lovely neck, across her shoulder, and down to her milky white
breasts. They would fit quite nicely in each hand, he mused.

           
What was he thinking?
Perhaps the
altercation with the young buck had addled him more than he thought.

           
"Love
is not love which alters when it alteration finds," Bee's voice broke him
from his thoughts.
 
The young men around
them smiled and gave her words of encouragement.
 
Alterations? That was a good idea. He should
tell Bee to alter every single one of her dresses so her creamy chest was not
exposed. That was the problem, not him. Ben realized that Bee and the other men
were staring at him. He searched his brain for some quote he could remember.

           
"When
my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her though I know she
lies," Ben said, knowing even as he spoke that it was the wrong thing to
say.

           
"Now,
see here," another man interjected. "That’s uncalled for."

           
Bee's
eyes, however, snapped. "You wound me not with thine eye, but with thy
tongue," she said.

           
Ben
smiled, thankful that Bee had not taken too much offense at his comment. Well,
aside from the fact that she was apparently back to hating him, but that was
expected, after all. "All men make faults, and even I in this," he
said, shrugging. "But, I am done."

           
Beatrice
raised an eyebrow. "You are done, my lord?" An iciness underlay her
tone.

           
"Lady
Beatrice," Ben repeated. "I was sent by your cousin to fetch
you," he lied smoothly, gently but expertly lifting her arm from some
pretentious young upstart, and extricating her from the group.

           
"Oh,
dear," Bee said, her brow furrowing. "I hope nothing is wrong with my
aunt. Do excuse me, gentlemen, please."

           
The
young men bowed deferentially to her, and Ben walked her quickly out of the
ballroom and into the hallway. He threw open a door and peered into the empty
room. "Perfect," he said, pulling her in behind him.

           
"Where
is Lennox? Where is my aunt?" Bee asked, looking around. "Why are we
in the library?"

           
"Because
it's empty and it's high time someone talked some sense into you," Ben
said angrily, closing the door softly behind him. "If I thought I could
trust you for the rest of the evening, I would wait until tomorrow."

           
"I
don't know what you're talking about," Bee retorted, turning back towards
him. "Now I'll just see myself out."

           
"You
will not," Ben said, cutting her off by standing in front of the door and
crossing his arms. "You will listen to me."

           
"I
don't have to do anything to you or for you," Bee said, her voice raising.

           
Ben
blinked. What would he have Bee do to him? His head swam with ideas of her on
her knees in front of him in that dress.
 
He would suckle and fondle her pert little breasts until she moaned his
name, and then....

           
Ben
swallowed hard. This was not going according to plan. Oh, damn her for wearing
such a low-cut dress, anyhow. It muddled a man's mind, that's what it did.

           
"Ben,
either tell me what have on your mind that cannot wait, or let me pass,"
Bee said, mimicking him by crossing her hands as well. Oh, damn, that motion
plumped her lovely breasts up even more.

           
"Yes,
well, I, uh..." Ben moved away from the door and casually moved towards a
chair. No need for her to see how physically affected he was by her, after all.

           
"Ben,"
Bee said, her toe tapping.

           
"What
was that in the garden?" Ben spat out.

           
"What
was what? Oh, goodness. I told you- I'm 24 years old. I just wanted to see what
the fuss was about. He wasn't going to ruin me. Plenty of couples are out in
the garden right now, kissing and not being ruined," Bee said, waving her
arm in the direction of the garden.

           
"Bee,"
Ben remonstrated.

           
"Fine,"
Bee said, moving towards the settee and taking a seat with a huff. "It's
not as if I have a way to... judge, you know. I'm practically on the shelf, you
know. This is the last Season I'm going to have. I just wanted, well, a way to
see if I could discern the good prospects from the poor ones."

           
Ben
scoffed.
"The problem is that while your way does
eliminate all of the poor prospects, it eliminates any potentially good ones as
well."

           
Bee stared back, her eyes glinting
back at him, until he saw something change.
 
Her shoulders drooped slightly from their rigid position, and she sighed
lightly. "It is so much easier to deal with you when you are acting like
an aristocratic ass, you know," she frowned.
 
She tilted her head back to look him in the
eye. "When you're logical it is almost impossible to argue with you, much
less hate you."

           
Ben's brain took a longer moment to
register than normal at her words; he was caught up instead in the gaze of
Bee's eyes, which had stopped glaring menacingly towards him, and now looked
inquisitively into his.
 
God, how had he
never noticed how deep they were?
 
Usually they glinted a flash of green, or, if she was wearing blue, they
would register a deep grey, but Ben could not discern what color exactly he
might classify them as.
 
After a very
long pause Ben realized that Bee had raised her eyebrows, waiting for his
response.
 
His brain finally started to
piece together what she had said, and his own eyes widened at hers.

           
"Almost a compliment, my
dear," he said lightly, his eyes still trained upon hers. "I suppose
I should count myself among the lucky few?" As soon as the words were out,
Ben admonished himself. No reason to antagonize a situation when there was no
need, especially if it looked as if Bee were going to start cooperating.

           
Bee frowned and looked away,
completely breaking the spell. She shrugged, and stood, lightly brushing her
skirts, clearly intending to leave.

           
"Wait," Ben said suddenly,
moving quickly to block her exit. He did not miss Bee's eye roll, but she
stopped, although her eyes were focused on the door, and not him, he noticed.
"We are not finished with our conversation."

           
Yes
we are,
Ben could almost hear Bee say, but instead, Bee stopped, her eyes
trained at her escape, as if Ben was not literally a foot from her.
 
She stood, poised for a quick exit, but Ben did
not move, but merely waited at her shoulder until she gave an exasperated sigh
and tilted her head so she once again looked him straight in the eye. "At
the risk of sounding abrupt,
my lord
,
what is it exactly you wish for me to wait
for?
"

           
Ben felt the corners of his mouth
curve up into a grin. "Why,
my lady
,
I would feign leave you unsatisfied."

           
"What?" Bee said abruptly,
then caught herself. "I mean, what do you mean,
my lord?
"

           
Ben moved a step closer, finding
himself right in the path of Bee's most precious eyes.
 
God above, what color
were
they?
 
They reminded him
of some fine jewel that changed colors in the light, making it impossible to
narrow down the hue exactly. He seemed lost in the trance of their color.
"It seems to me," he heard himself say, "that until this is
cleared up, similar issues will continue to occur."

           
Bee put her head down and frowned,
looking down at the toes of her shoes that were peeking out from her dress. She
almost
looked meek, but her overall
demeanor prevented her from prostrating herself that far. Instead, Ben thought,
she looked more thoughtful than sorry.
          
"No,"
she finally said, "What you said makes sense.
 
No use in throwing out the good with the
bad."

           
Ben felt his heart grip for a
moment. The chit was agreeing with him!
 
It was a red-letter day- perhaps he could petition Parliament to declare
today a national holiday.
 
He could not
stop the grin that spread over his face. "You admit to agreeing to
something I have said."

           
Bee looked up, and back towards the
door again, which was much more difficult as Ben's large body was preventing
her from getting a good look at it. He saw her eyes dart about awkwardly,
trying to focus on a safe target. As her eyes flashed, Ben could see several
different responses to his race through her mind, but she seemed to eliminate
them all, and merely raised her chin and said, "Yes, so I did."

           
Ben felt something shift in his
chest.
 
Milford was right, goddamn him;
she
was
exquisite when she acted
regally.
 
Why hadn't he noticed it
before?
 
He was probably too caught up in
arguing with her, he reasoned. But when she acted amiably, well, beautiful
wasn't even enough to describe her.
  
She
was speaking again, he realized. She
did
have a melodic voice when it wasn't shrieking at him.
 

           
"Have you heard anything I've
just said?" Bee broke him from his train of thought.
 
Did she always have those gold highlights in
her hair, or were they recent?
 

           
"Ben? Ben?
Lord Kendal
?" Ben's head shot up when Bee addressed his title.
"Hmm?" he asked innocently.

           
Bee's eyes furrowed. "Are you
alright, Ben?"
 
Ben could see something
tantamount to concern in her eyes.
 
They
were
lovely eyes; their color had
changed slightly; they glowed a green right now, mimicking the
concern that she held in her voice.

           
 
"I am well, Lady Beatrice," Ben said.
He paused for a moment, contemplating his next move, then closed the distance
between them, standing less than a foot from her.
 
She stiffened and stood up taller, accepting
whatever challenge he should choose to throw at her.
 
His heart flip-flopped now, where it would
have groaned in painful anticipation for an ensuring fight only yesterday.
 
Knowing his own mind, however, made it easier
to sense hers.