Far Beyond Scandalous (14 page)

"You are," she insisted,
leaning forward so much that their knees brushed and he had to fight to keep
his body under control, lest she discover how very
improper
he wished to
be just then.
 
"You are a good man,
finer than any I know.
 
That is why I
will not allow the
ton
to treat you as if you are nothing."

His heart swelled at her belief in
him.
 
Other than Hastings, no one had
believed him worthy of respect in so very long.
 
Yet he could not presume too much.
 
It was a fine line he was treading.
 
Still, he could not help himself, and he stroked the back of her
hand with his thumb.
 
"You cannot
control them all, sweeting."
 
In
that moment, he felt as close to her as he had that day in the summerhouse.
 
With all of his heart, he longed to be back
there again, where the rest of the world simply ceased to exist.
 
"They are many voices, and you are only
one."

"It does not signify.
 
In the end, I will win."
 
Amy's eyes flashed fire, and Gibson wished
he could be that confident.
 
"You
will have the respect you deserve.
 
I
will make them understand that you are more than your past."
 
She did not know how, precisely, she would
accomplish that, but at the moment, it did not matter.
 
She was nearly overset with emotion for the
man seated across from her.
 
"When
they look at you, I want them to see what I see."

"And what is it that you
see?"
 
He knew he should not ask,
but he could not help himself either.

Amy was thankful that the darkness
hid the blush that she was certain had crept over her cheeks.
 
"I see a hero and a man worthy of
respect.
 
Tonight, you defended me, even
at the risk of causing a scandal, but still allowed me to choose my own path at
the same time.
 
Had I wanted to leave
with the Saintwoods, you would not have stood in my way.
 
In my heart, I know that.
 
That is a gift that no one has ever given me
before.
 
And to me, that makes you a
better man than I have ever known."

Gibson knew he should not press for
more, but he found himself speaking the words before he could stop
himself.
 
He was a fool, but a besotted
one.
 
"And do you see anything else
when you look at me, my lady?
 
For I
know what I see, but I am curious to know how much more our views
differ."
 
He kept his tone light
and teasing, but the answer was supremely important to him.

Reaching out, Amy ran a gloved hand
across his jaw, much as she had that day so long ago.
 
"I see a man of noble blood, born and trained to be so much
more than he currently is.
 
I see a man
who will not allow himself to forget where he came from, and the circumstances
that shaped him."
 
She smiled and
in the warm cocoon of the carriage, he could almost bring himself to believe
that she might truly care for him. That she could see beyond the scandal.
  
"I see a fine man, one I am proud to
have escort me about town.
 
I see a man
who is the only one ever to give me pleasure.
 
The only man who truly knows who I am inside of this pretty shell.
 
One that I would so very much love to waltz
with some day, who might court me openly, if we could only find a way."

Pain sliced through his heart at
her words.
 
She was living in a fairy
tale world, and he should tell her so.
 
But when he opened his mouth to speak, the words would not come out.
 
He wanted to tell her that what she hoped
for was impossible, that he would never be anything more than a physician, and
that her family would never allow a union between them, even if society would
tolerate it.
 
Which they most decidedly
would not.

He wanted to tell her that doors
now open to her would be slammed shut in her face if they even attempted
something like what she was suggesting.
 
He wanted to remind her of all she would give up, the scandal she
courted by even daring to voice her hopes aloud.
 
However, he did none of those things.
 
Instead, he gave her a small, sad smile, and pulled her across
the carriage to sit beside him, relishing the feel of her in his arms once
more, breaking the promise they had both made earlier in the evening to keep
their hands to themselves.
 
Though she
had
touched him first.

Gibson knew he might damn himself
for all of eternity, but he could not get enough of her.
 
He needed to touch her, just one more time.

For once, he decided to let the
past slip away and be forgotten.
 
For
one more moment out of time, they could simply be Amy and Gibson again.

"I pray that you are right,
sweeting."
 
Even as he spoke the
words, he knew they were lies, but at the moment, he wanted to hear them just
as much as she.
 
"For I want those
things as well.
 
More than you can ever
know."

Then, with Amy wrapped in his arms,
he rapped on the carriage ceiling once more and ordered the driver to take them
home.
 
Well, her home anyway.
 
Gibson didn't have a true home, just a house
in Cheapside.
 
He had hadn't had a true
home for a very long time.
 
It was yet
one more disparity between them that he was certain could never be crossed.

Society
Tales

It has come to this author's
attention that a certain Lady A.C. was seen in the company of the dashingly
handsome, yet not-quite-to-par Doctor G.B. last evening at Drury Lane, walking
arm in arm through the theater's darkened hallways.
 
Just as was speculated would happen.

While many people assume that a
scandal is brewing, this author has it on excellent authority the gentleman -
for let us all admit that is precisely what he should still be - is acting on
the direction of the paragon of a lady's family - not to mention our prince! -
in escorting her to various events about town.
 
It is a favor, I am told, of great magnitude, and though no one will say
for certain, it is believed that the possible health crisis, which was
speculated on earlier, is in fact the reason for the escort.
 
Moreover, it is believed that her health is
still extremely delicate and in need of constant care and vigilance.

Should this indeed prove to be
the case, then this author believes that the good physician is far nobler than
many of the so-called "peers of the realm."
 
Until then, it will be interesting to see how this pairing plays
out, as it is no small secret that the lady in question is verging on spinster
status, even though there is at least one young buck vying for her affections.

- Lady X

"Why don't they just print my
name," Amy grumbled to Grace as she dressed that morning for breakfast.
 
"It's not as if anybody is going to
read that and assume it is someone else.
 
They all know it's me."
 
Though in truth, she wasn't overly upset about the tidbit in the
Society
Tales
gossip sheet.
 
Anything,
including the latest
on-dit
, that made Gibson's escort of her appear
acceptable in the eyes of society was a good thing.

"Why do the sheep eat grass,
my lady?" Grace asked as she helped Amy into a pale blue sprigged muslin
gown accented by an ivory ribbon about her waist.
 
"Why does society gossip at all?
 
It is what they do, and we are no better off fighting it than we
are trying to capture a bit of wind in a bottle." The maid finished tying
the sash on Amy's gown and gave the bow a small pat, satisfied with her
ministrations.
 
"At least it is
complimentary, my lady."
 
Then she
paused and made a face.
 
"Well,
mostly.
 
You
are
perfectly
healthy.
 
That's plain for all to
see."

Grace did have the right of it, as
usual, though the line about Amy bordering on spinsterhood did sting a
bit.
 
However, through happy
coincidence, the column also advanced Amy's plan to have Gibson eventually
accepted by the
ton
.
 
The details
had crystallized in her mind the previous evening after Gibson had
departed.
 
She wanted him to be accepted
so that they might openly court.
 
It was
not completely unheard of, as some physicians did marry into nobility, though
not usually to a wife as high in rank as she was.

More than that, however, Gibson
deserved to take his rightful place among his peers.
 
He should not suffer for his father's mistakes.
 
From this point forward, everything Amy did
must work toward that end.
 
Even though
she had no idea how she would re-secure a title for him - assuming that it could
be done at all.

Her plan, of course, meant no more
touching or acting improperly while they were out.
 
She needed to restrain herself around him and somehow keep her
feelings in check.
 
It would not do to
be caught in a compromising position with him, and, given their history, the
more time they spent in each other's company, the more likely that was to
occur.
 
She needed to be stronger than
that.
 
Moreover, she needed to remember
that she was a lady.

In her heart, she knew that it was
unlikely that she could ever obtain a title for him, as there were limits to
the power she and her family could wield.
 
On the other hand, she knew she had a great deal of influence, simply by
the luck of her birth, and for once, she wanted to put it to good use.
 
This article was a start, even though she
had nothing to do with its placement.

The
on-dit
also more or less
confirmed the story that both Amy and Gibson had been working very diligently
to sell to the members of the
ton
.
 
The same story coming from the nib of Lady X's pen could only serve to
help further their cause.
 
Thus far,
only Gibson, Michaels, and Amy herself knew about the directive found with her
father's other estate papers, and both she and Gibson wanted to keep it that
way.

However, for Amy, this charade was
quickly becoming more than just a way to keep up appearances and protect family
secrets until her father returned.
 
It
was becoming a test of her heart as well.
 
Physical attraction might have been the initial spark between her and
Gibson, but now, she felt it quickly deepening into something more.
 
She cared for him a great deal, and she
suspected that he cared for her in return.
 
Not that he would ever admit it, for he was far too much of a proper
gentleman despite his lack of a title.

Gibson was Amy's mythical Prince
Charming, the man her mother had long ago told her would never truly
exist.
 
Yet here he was, in the
flesh.
 
Except that, unfortunately, he
was filling the role of Cinderella more than that of the prince.

There had to be a way to change
that, she decided as she sat at her dressing table while Grace pinned up her hair
for the day.
 
There was a way around
everything.
 
One only had to find a
solution.

Resolute now and confident in her
plan, Amy took a last look at herself in the silver framed mirror, decided she
was acceptable, and turned to Grace.
 
"I will be checking in with my mother before I begin the day.
 
Please inform Towson that I will be down for
breakfast shortly."
 
She rose in a
swirl of stiff skirts and a cloud of lemon and lavender, her signature scent,
determined to start that very day to find a solution.
 
Once she ascertained her mother's condition,
of course.
 
That always came first, no
matter what.

The maid bobbed a quick
curtsey.
 
"Yes, my lady.
 
I know the repast for this morning is to be
light, as it is only you in the breakfast room at the moment."

"Has my mother eaten
yet?" Amy asked, pausing as she was halfway out the door.

"I do not believe so,"
Grace replied as she picked up Amy's nightrail from the floor where it had been
tossed earlier.
 
"We were to wait
for Dr. Blackwell's instruction."

Amy considered her options for a
moment.
 
"Very well.
 
Have a tray sent to my mother's room for me,
please.
 
I will breakfast there and wait
for Dr. Blackwell at the same time.
 
I
am hoping for good news today and do not wish to be far from her bedside when
he arrives."

Then she turned and navigated the
familiar corridors of Cheltenham House until she came to her mother's
chambers.
 
She knocked at the door and
heard a faint "enter," just enough to let her know that someone was
still sitting with her mother and that Gibson had not yet arrived.
 
Her timing, it seemed, was excellent.

Pushing open the door, Amy was
surprised to see her mother sitting up, a freshly delivered breakfast tray of
soft foods at her side, and Connie, one of the upstairs maids, sitting beside her.

"Good morning,
miss."
 
Connie rose and dropped
into a small curtsey, but Amy waved her off.
 
Proper it might be, but at the moment, she was more concerned with her
mother's health than proprieties.

Walking over to the bed, Amy smiled
down at her mother, a warm glow suffusing her heart when her mother smiled back
ever so slightly.
 
"Mama.
 
How good to see that you are awake this
morning.
 
How do you feel?"

"Better."
 
Thea's speech was still slightly slurred,
but it was vastly improved from the first morning after the attack when her
words were garbled and made little sense.
 
"Still tired."
 
The
countess was still working on forming complete sentences once more, but the
progress, in Amy's opinion was remarkable.
 
Not to mention that the considerable rest the countess was getting also
seemed to help.

Sitting down in a chair next to the
bed, Amy offered up a sunny smile, thrilled with her mother's progress.
 
"I imagine you would be.
 
I have sent messages to both Father and
Marcus.
 
Michaels is continuing on in
his role of steward, and all is well, as it should be."

Thea's mouth tightened slightly at
the mention of Michaels' name, but then, considering his views on women, that
wasn't overly surprising.
 
It was a
wonder he and the countess had been able to work together for as long as they
had without incident.

Reaching out, Thea gripped her
daughter's hand with more strength than Amy had expected.
 
In fact, it took her a bit by surprise.
 
"Be careful.
 
There is danger."
 
Again, her mother's words were slightly slurred, but their meaning was
crystal clear.

With a sigh, Amy picked up a piece
of toast and handed it to her mother who nibbled at it delicately.
 
Perhaps things had not improved as much as
she had hoped.
 
There was no danger
lurking about.
 
This was London, after
all, not the wilds of Northumbria or even the Scottish Highlands.

Amy and her mother had been through
this same conversation yesterday as well with similar results.
 
Thea insisted that there was danger awaiting
Amy, though she could not say why or from whom.
 
Whether that was because she truly didn't know or simply couldn't
remember wasn't exactly clear.
 
Amy
suspected that the "danger" was probably just in her mother's
imagination, a figment caused by the apoplexy that had struck so suddenly at the
ball.

The previous morning, the two of
them had indulged in a bit of a heated discussion about the danger, or as much
of a discussion as Thea was capable of having at the moment.
 
Amy did not want to have it again.

"I will be careful, Mama.
 
I promise.
 
I do not leave the house alone, though you also know that I never would,
even if you were completely healthy.
 
If
Gibson is not with me, another member of the staff is."
 
She had gone to the bookseller the previous
afternoon in the company of both Grace and James, the family's driver, as well
as one of the two tigers the family employed to double as stable hands.
 
Three people to guard one debutante seemed
like rather favorable odds to Amy.

"That is good," Thea
intoned flatly, reaching for her teacup, and once more, Amy wished her mother's
voice still held the lively spark it once had.
 
Gibson had assured them all it would return in time.
 
However, Amy wasn't always very good at
waiting for what she desired.
 
"Trust Gibson.
 
He is good
boy."
 
For Thea, that was as
impressive as reciting a poem from memory, something else she had loved to do.

Amy clapped her hands in joy,
unable to contain her happiness.
 
"Oh, Mama!
 
Your speech is
improving!"
 
There was a chance for
a full recovery after all, just as Gibson had said.

Instead of being happy as well,
however, Thea's hand thumped down on the bed in a weak fist, anger radiating
from her.
 
"Serious.
 
Trust Gibson.
 
Only him.
 
Listen."
 
Then the countess
shrank back against the pillows, as if that display of pique had cost her
greatly.
 
Her eyes, however, flashed
fire and anger, revealing that she was, indeed, serious.
 
Her body might be injured but her mind was
still clearly just as sharp as it always had been.

Her heart breaking a little, Amy
exhaled slowly, and then reached out to grasp her mother's hand tightly.
 
There was only one reply that she could give
that would satisfy her mother.
 
She had
learned that lesson yesterday.
 
"I
promise, Mama.
 
I will do as you
ask.
 
I will trust Dr. Blackwell and no
other.
 
If you really must know, I trust
him with my life."
 
It was time,
Amy decided, that she confide in her mother instead of keeping secrets.