Much Ado about the Shrew by Elizabeth May

Milford murmured, having quickly placed himself on Ben's
left.   On some level Ben realized that
Milford and Welles were flanking him in case he decided to throw himself at the
bastard.   Which, truth to be told, was
looking more and more decidedly like an excellent idea.
                "Just...
wait," Welles said softly, and the crowd began to murmur loudly again.
                "What
the hell is going on now?" Ben muttered, craning to see over feathered
headdresses.
                "Oh,
dear God," Welles said.
                "I
knew we should have gone to the Rochester's ball first," Milford sighed.
                "What?
What do you see that I don't?" Ben asked, pushing his way through the
crowd.
                "We
are going to have to resign our commission after this, you know," Milford
grumbled as he and Welles followed in Ben's wake.
                Welles
sighed loudly as he pushed aside the crowd. "I know," he said
dolefully.  
                "What
are you two going on about?" Ben asked, turning his head slightly,
noticing the room grow unnaturally quiet.
                Welles
nodded once to the scene that was playing out in the middle of the ballroom
floor. "That," he said.
                Ben
turned to see the tableau unfolding before him. There stood Surrey, resplendent
in his red coat, his tall, thin frame towering over most of the lords in the
room.   Marching towards him across the
ballroom floor, without missing a beat, was Bee.   The crowd parted quite willingly for her as
she made her way through, and she quickly reached the edge of the dance floor,
which had been vacated by the dancers as soon as Surrey had been announced.  
                Ben
had often been invited to watch dog fights, but found he hadn't the stomach for
such violence.   The men who ringed the
fights were as aggressive as the animals inside, yelling and screaming at the
top of their lungs. Even though there was no sound except the soft pad of Bee's
slippers on the dance floor, there was as much excitement for pain here as
there was at one of those fights, and Ben was reminded of the smell and
anticipation of violence.   His insides
squeezed as Bee approached the man who had murdered her brother.
                Bee
marched up to Lord Surrey, one hand holding her skirts to allow her to take
such long strides. She stopped when she stood but a foot from him, and dropped
her skirts, smoothing them lightly while staring Surrey straight in the
eye.   Lord Surrey, however, did not move,
but remained a statue, as if he knew the altercation was coming, and would
rather have it done with now than later.
                "Bee,"
Ben whispered, and began pushing his way through the remainder of the crowd.
                "Kendal,
no," Welles whispered. "Wait!" he said, grabbing for Ben's coat.
                But
Ben had slipped through, and was walking along the lone dance floor towards Bee
and Surrey. Within seconds he had crossed to stand at Bee's back. Surrey took
his eyes from Bee, and stared at Ben warily.
                "Lord
Surrey," Bee said, turning the attention back to her.
                Surrey
gave a lazy smile. "Lady Beatrice," he said languidly, and gave a
deferential bow.
                That,
however, brought him closer to Bee's height, and she slapped him hard across
the face, drawing back and hitting him with such force that the sound
reverberated through the packed hall.   Surrey staggered back and he instantly clutched his injured cheek.  
                "Why
you pretentious bi-" he said, and moved forward towards Bee.
                "I
believe it is my turn," Ben said, and picked Bee up by the shoulders,
placing her to the side. Taking advantage of Surrey's confusion, Ben punched
him in the face with his left hand. "Now they match," he puffed as
Surrey