Much Ado about the Shrew (5 page)

           
Milford
smiled. "We will help you as much as possible with that task," he
said, looking over at Welles, who returned his grin.

           
"Thank
you, I think," Ben said.

           
"Of
course, of course," Milford said. "Now... let's off to the
Evershaw's
ball. I long to see what other diversions we can
find."

           
"We
can't leave just yet," Ben reminded him. "This ball is being held in
our honor."

           
"Oh,
bloody hell," Milford muttered. "In that case, I suggest we raid the
library and see if Lord Stafford has any brandy stashed."

           
"I'll
drink to that," Welles said.

           
"Let's
pray for such a future," Milford said, leading the trio towards the doors
of the ballroom.

           
Ben
grumbled to himself as he sat on his trusty bay gelding in the middle of Rotten
Row. He had stayed up much too late the night before, and had contemplated
sending a note of regret to Bee, but the thought that she would know the
reason- that he was quite hungover- somehow made him muster his courage and
brave the morning chill.
 
The fact that
Bee still had not arrived, however, was darkening his mood, to the point that
his horse began to shift nervously under him. "Sorry, Balthasar," he
said, gently stroking the dark gelding's neck, calming him. "I am a little
of out of sorts this morning. Just be thankful you don't have to worry about
women."

           
Balthasar
sneezed and tossed his head and Ben smiled, giving the gelding a calm pat.
"I envy you, you know, boy," he said. "Women are the very devil."

           
"I'm
sure I could find someone to solve your problems with women the way you did
his," Bee said lightly behind him.

           
Ben
stiffened in the saddle, his stomach tightening both from having heard her, and
from the implication she was making. "Ah, Lady Beatrice," he said,
pivoting Balthasar around quickly to face her. "What a delight to see you
this morning. And only a quarter of an hour late."

           
Bee
was riding a petite chestnut mare and was dressed in a velvet riding habit. It
was a deep, dark blue that highlighted her features almost as much as that
green dress last night had. Of course, there was no way he was going to comment
on that, or of the little hat she work at a rakish angle, with a feather, that
curled just slightly, and touched the back of her neck lightly when she turned
her head just so.
 
No, better not to
mention how the entire ensemble featured her curves and made a man want to see
what the layers of fabric were uncovering. Ben shifted in the saddle, his thoughts
making his groin uncomfortable. He mentally chastised himself, and tried to
focus his thoughts elsewhere; he should not be having such thoughts about Bee,
especially when she annoyed him so much.

           
Bee's
countenance darkened. "Really, Ben, you know that we did not set an actual
time," she said. "However, we would have been here earlier, but my
uncle apparently does not keep grooms who actually know how to ride, so we had
to
walk
the entire way here."
She motioned with her head to the young man perched uncertainly in the saddle
behind her.

           
Ben
frowned at Bee's implication. Her uncle was a horrible reprobate with an awful
gambling habit and an even worse temper.
 
He had inherited the estate and title when Bee's father passed, and
within two weeks of him taking over the estate, Bee had promptly left to go
live with her aunt, complaining about his mistreatment of the tenants and the
estate. Apparently her uncle's continued misuse of funds was now affecting the
quality of servants.

           
"Ah,
I'm sure the young man is an excellent whip hand," Ben said
diplomatically.
           
Bee gave a noncommittal shrug.
"Where are the other two musketeers?" she asked, peering left and
right, looking for Welles and Milford. "Are they late, or are we
early?"

           
"Neither,"
Ben frowned. "They both had prior engagements."

           
Bee
raised her eyebrows. "That came up between last night and this
morning?"

           
Ben
just shrugged, and, as if an unspoken signal were given, they both moved their
horses towards the trail.

           
"Lennox
felt that an untrained groom was better than his presence here?" Ben
asked, slightly annoyed.
 
He knew that
Bee deserved better, but he was not sure why that annoyed him.

           
"As
you're aware, my aunt cannot stand my uncle, so Lennox rented a separate house
for her for the Season."

           
"Of
course," Ben said. "I called there yesterday." Bee's aunt was
her mother's dear sister, whereas her uncle was her father's brother.
 
Ben was surprised that they had braved even a
few days together, given his memories of how they treated one another.

           
"Unfortunately
Lennox's stable isn't set up here, so my poor mare has to stay with my uncle
while we're in London," Bee continued. “I didn’t think there would be an
issue, and when I realized there was, it seemed a bit late to drag poor Lennox
out of bed.”

           
"How
is your uncle, then?" asked Ben.

           
Bee
frowned and gave a slight shrug. "How is your aunt?" Ben tried again.

           
Bee's
countenance immediately brightened. "She is well, and asked after you. She
was indeed sorry to have missed you. As were the others," she added
belatedly.

           
"Others?"
Ben asked.

           
"Lennox,
and his sister- my cousin. She is 18 this year, just down from Scotland, and is
entering her first Season.
 
She and my
aunt were at another engagement last night, which is why you didn't see her at
the Stafford ball."

           
"It
sounds like Lennox is surrounded by women.”

           
Bee
laughed gaily and her horse spooked slightly. "I do believe he deserves a
medal for dealing with us. But as lovely as this is, the sun is rising, and
Maggie here has not had a good gallop in a while. So, my lord, shall we do what
we came here to do?"

           
Ben
opened his mouth to tell her that they were not, under any circumstances,
galloping, but at that moment she turned her head just so, and the sun hit her
face
just so.
 
He tried to think of what she had just
said. Do what they were supposed to do? What he wanted to do was to move his
hands up her bodice and cup her lovely breasts...
dear God, what was wrong with him
?
 
Ben physically shook his head to get rid of the images of a naked Bee
that kept filling his mind. He had been too long without a woman- that was the
problem. Now that he was permanently ensconced in England, he should take the
time to look up a lovely actress or singer to help him curb any wayward
thoughts he might entertain.

           
"Ben,
are you feeling alright?" Bee asked, and Ben realized that he had been
staring at Bee's breasts for several moments.

           
"Uh,
oh, yes, I do apologize... I was... uh, thinking... of something... I need to,
er
... tell, uh, my steward, yes. That's right."

           
Bee's
eyebrows furrowed and her mouth puckered into a frown. "Do you need to go
now?"

           
Ben
felt his heart grip slightly at the sad, almost pathetic tone in her voice.
"No," he reassured her, "we have more than ample time."

           
Bee
smiled again, and Ben would say that her face took on a radiant glow, if he
were prone to such nonsense, that was. Which he most decidedly was
not
.

           
"Excellent,"
Bee said. "So, let's be off, then!" With a sharp cry to her mare,
they tore down Rotten Row, and Ben felt his gelding jump after them more than
he commanded his horse to follow. They thundered down the trail, Bee in the
lead the entire way, until they came near to the end and she had to pull up her
horse.

           
"Oh,
that was quite exhilarating!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flush and slightly
breathless. Ben slowed his gelding a little more forcefully than he would have
liked; although Balthasar seemed quite willing to allow Bee's mare the lead, he
seemed quite enamored with the little chestnut mare and kept trying to maneuver
himself closer to her.

           
"I
thought we were not going to gallop?”

Bee smiled mischievously.
“I don’t remember agreeing to those terms.”

Ben smiled in spite of
himself. “Needed a good run, did she?" He motioned with his head to Bee's
mare, whose nostrils were flared, but still looked as if she could rally for
another run.

           
"I
daresay we both did," Bee smiled, her words coming in pants from the
exercise.

           
Ben
swallowed at Bee's heaving chest, and quickly looked away. "Just breathing
heavily," he muttered under his breath.

           
"Pardon?"
Bee asked.

           
"Uh..."
Ben's brain scrambled for thought. "Your mare. She's breathing heavily.
You should walk her," Ben chastised.

           
"I'm
well aware of how to take care of my horse," Bee said defensively.

           
"Then
you should be walking her," Ben argued.

           
"Take
care of your own horse," Bee told him angrily, looking pointedly at
Balthasar, who was heaving in great gulps of air.

           
"Fine,"
Ben bit out, and moved Balthasar into a walk, circling him back the way they
had come.
 
Bee spun her horse and her
horse followed a few steps behind.
 
Sighing heavily, Ben slowed Balthasar slightly so Bee's horse could move
adjacent to him.

           
After
several tense moments, Ben tried to start a conversation, "I don't
recognize your mare. Is she new?"

           
Bee
did not answer for several moments, but finally answered, "She was a
birthday present from Lennox. He didn't like me riding Verges."

           
Ben
coughed. "Verges? Your father's stallion? Tell me you're kidding."

           
"I
am not," Bee said primly, and added, "I don't see the problem. I was
perfectly capable of handling him."

           
Ben
laughed. "I'm sure you thought you could. Only a woman would think that
she could handle a stallion."

           
Bee
stopped her mare, forcing Ben to stop Balthasar as well. She narrowed her eyes
and cocked her head, studying Ben for a moment. "So a man can handle a
stallion, but not a woman?"

           
Ben
nodded. "Of course."

           
Bee
rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. "That explains then why you ride a
gelding," she spat.

           
Ben
was about to retort when Balthasar took the opportunity to move closer to
Maggie. "I apologize," Ben said as Balthasar sidled over and tried to
nip Maggie in the hind. "He appears to believe your mare there should be
his."
 
Maggie squealed and gave a
half-hearted kick in Balthasar's direction.

           
"Yes,
Maggie and I are of the same mind," Bee smiled too sweetly. "We both
like what we see, but we are intelligent enough to know that neither of you are
able to provide us what we need."

           
With
that, Bee turned Maggie and headed towards her groom at a swift trot. When her
groom sat dumbly on her horse as she passed him, she stopped. "Well, come
on!" she admonished, continuing towards her home while her groom kicked
his own mount to catch up with her.

           
Ben
watched Bee and her groom until they turned a bend and were out of sight. He
was quite certain he did not want to be a eunuch, but at that moment it seemed
a viable alternative to the lusty thoughts that were going through his brain at
the moment. "Don't worry about them, Balthasar," he told his horse.
"Like I said, women are the very devil.