Free Much Ado about the Shrew by Elizabeth May Page B

and stress of society. He was used to dealing with issues
of war and death, of wondering if he would even be alive the following day.
This was the longest he had dealt with the London Season in over five years,
and he found the entire experience tedious.
                He
hoped Bee would find a husband soon.
                Ben
was announced to almost no fanfare, as the noise of the ballroom overwhelmed
the sound of his name being called. Which was just fine to Ben, although he
hoped to find Milford and Welles, as they had promised to attend. Glancing
about the glittering ballroom, Ben spotted Bee standing with Lennox and his
aunt and a short little thing in white. Probably her cousin, he thought, whom
he would have seen, had he not left the garden party early.
                Over
which he refused to feel any guilt whatsoever.
                "I
see you've spotted your quarry," Ben heard Milford's voice behind him.
                "Milford,"
Ben said, turning. "Did you just come in? I didn't hear you
announced."
                "They
don't announce him," Welles said from behind Milford. "It causes less
embarrassment to all."
                "We
got here a few minutes before you did," Milford said, ignoring Welles.
                "Anything
of consequence happen so far?" Ben asked.
                "At
a ball? Hardly," Milford snorted. "A few young misses made cow-eyes
at Welles here.”
    Ben’s eyebrows lifted.
“Really, Welles? You?”
    “Shove
off,” Welles grumbled, but Ben saw a smile tug at his lips.
    “I was just talking Welles
here into going into the card room,” Milford said to Ben. “You too, if you
think you can leave your lovely beauty there unattended."
                "She's
not my beauty," Ben growled.
                "Semantics,"
Milford shrugged.
                "Fine.
The card room sounds excellent," Ben spat out.
                "I'm
sure they have brandy there as well," Welles said hopefully.
                Ben
rolled his eyes. "How did I ever get caught up with such wastrels as
you?"
                "The
other wastrels wouldn't have you," Milford reminded him.
                Ben
laughed in spite of himself. "Let's go, then," he said, casting
another glance at the ballroom and at Bee before turning away.
                "Lord
Surrey!" Ben heard the footman announce.
                What the hell?
                "Wait," Ben said,
grabbing Welles' jacket at the back lightly, stopping him.
                "What's
the holdup?" Milford turned. "Are we in search of brandy or
not?"
                "It
can't be," Ben murmured.
                But
it was. The entire ballroom had grown silent at the announcement, and now had
erupted in a flurry of conversation.   Ben
turned and saw the man who had killed his best friend in cold blood standing at
the entryway.
                Surrey
surveyed the crowd with a sardonic look on his face.   He looked very much the same as he had five
years before, standing over William's dying form; he seemed bored with
everyone's excitement and anxiety.   But
what the hell was Surrey doing there, and why was he wearing a bloody officer's
uniform?
                "It's
Surrey," Ben snarled. "What the hell is Surrey doing in England? I'll
kill him. I'll kill him tonight. In fact, I'll kill him right now."           
                "Hold
on," Welles said, putting a firm hand on Ben's shoulder, holding him in
place. Ben sometimes forgot how strong Welles was; the firm grip stopped him in
his tracks, which, he belatedly realized, was on a direct course to
Surrey.   Ben took a breath, and relaxed
his hands that he discovered had both curved into tight fists.
                  "He deserves to die," Ben said in a
low voice.
                "No
doubt,"