Far Beyond Scandalous (33 page)

Amy felt herself flush a bit.
 
He
had
been spending all of his time
with her, taking her to the park and to Gunter's, as well as to Madame
LaVallier's and other places like the local bookseller.
 
Oh, and ravishing her in the secluded old
section of the park, and making her fall in love with him a little more each
day.
 
Must not forget those important
events either.
 

Still, he had not been
working.
 
That had probably cost him a
great deal of money, not something a man in his position could afford.
 
Her heart tightened again, thinking of all
he had given up for her and her momentary anger abated.
 
She could not blame him for his choice.
 
In his position, she might have done the
same.

"That is understandable,"
Amy offered, uncertain of what else to say but now faced with another
quandary.
 
How much did her mother know
about what had gone on between her daughter and Gibson?
 
Did she know the depth of Amy's feelings for
the man?
 
Or had they been sufficiently
careful?
 
Moreover, did the countess
know about last night?
 
Amy had
attempted to be as discreet as possible, but the maids and Cook had been awake
and moving about belowstairs when she had returned.
 
What if one of them had seen her and told her mother of Amy's
early morning escapades?

Thea's next words put any lingering
questions to rest.
 
She knew some, but
not everything.
 
"It is also
understandable that you are despondent now that he will be gone from our daily
lives."
 
Amy stiffened, though she
pasted a smile on her face for her mother's benefit.
 
"After all, my darling daughter, you are in love with the
man, are you not?"

"I...
 
I..."
 
What could Amy say in defense of herself?
 
Nothing.
 
It was true.
 
But how had her mother known?
 
On the other hand, better that her mother
guess at the emotion of love than to figure out that Amy and Gibson had shared
a bed - not to mention their bodies - the night before.

The countess' eyes took on a far
away look, one that could almost be described as wistful.
 
"Oh, my darling Amy, I have known since
last summer that you had formed a
tendré
for the man.
 
It was as clear to me as my own love for
your father was the moment I met him.
 
Despite my limited physical state, I knew that once Gibson began
escorting you while I could not properly chaperone you, you would only fall
more deeply in love with the man.
 
And
him with you."
 

Thea sighed, though to Amy's
surprise she did not seem at all unhappy with the situation.
 
"It was a small price to pay to keep
you safe, for I know that boy would guard you with his life if it came to that.
 
Not to mention that you were finally happy
when you were in his company.
 
It was
the very thing your father and I had always wanted for you - someone to love
who loved you in return.
 
The sadness
was finally gone from your eyes and that old sparkle we so loved had
returned.
 
I would do nothing that might
dim it."

"You never said anything,
Mama."
 
Amy's gaze swung to Marcus,
who was watching them both with a veiled expression so she could not know what
he was thinking.
 
"Nothing has
happened.
 
I swear it.
 
Please do not think less of Gibson.
 
He was always a perfect
gentleman."
 
Again, that wasn't
even remotely true, but she would protect the secret of those magical hours in
Gibson's arms to her grave.
 
"He
may only be a physician but he is a good man.
 
You of all people should know this."

"A mother knows how her daughter
feels."
 
Thea interrupted Amy's
plea to her brother, though there was a look in her eye, Amy noted, that
suggested, she might also be aware of far more than she was letting on.
 
"And, despite everything, I know that
Gibson is a trustworthy man.
 
Your
father trusts him with his life, and with the lives of both you and your
brother.
 
That is good enough for
me."
 
Thea smiled softly.
 
"I also know that he is good and
honorable, many things that men of society are often not.
 
He also sees himself as unworthy of the few
things he has left in life, and therefore, is not a grasping fortune hunter
like Lord Drake."

"The day you told me to trust
Gibson and only him."
 
Amy's mind
began to quickly fill in the blanks.
 
"That was what you meant, wasn't it?
 
To stay away from Drake because you didn't trust that his
intentions were honorable."

Thea's gaze strayed to Marcus for a
moment.
 
"Partly.
 
Lord Drake had begged permission to court
you several times earlier this season, but your father and I found him to be dishonest
in his intentions, so we refused.
 
There
is more, however."
 
She worried her
lower lip.
 
"Do you remember your
old music master?"

"I do."
 
Quickly, Amy relayed everything that Gibson
had told her.
 
It seemed a relief to her
mother that Amy already knew the full story.
 
"However, the Runner that Gibson hired could not determine if Mark
Overton was dead or alive."

"Oh, I am very much
alive.
 
And very ready to claim what has
been denied to my family for so long."

This was the third time in less
than a full day that someone had made a surprise appearance at a doorway, and
Amy would have laughed at the absurdity of it all.
 
She would have, at least, if Michaels', her father's faithful
steward, had not been standing in said doorway leveling a pistol at them.

Then, he gave a small but elegant
bow.
 
"Mr. Mark Overton, at your
service, my dear, sweet, and lovely Lady Amy.
 
Or should I say, my future wife?"

The incessant pounding at the front
door was only adding to Gibson's black and decidedly foul mood.
 
"Go away!" he shouted from his
position at his desk where he continued to do nothing more than stare into
oblivion.
 
"I am not receiving
patients today!
 
Not even for His Royal
Highness!"

What he very much wanted to do at
the moment was get completely foxed out of his mind, but the bottle of scotch
still sat beside him unopened.
 
He could
not bring himself to drink to forget, much as he might desire it.
 
Not only would it take a toll on his body in
the short term, but it might also erase the memories of last night, including
the moment Amy had confessed her love for him.
 
Him.
 
Gibson Blackwell.
 
The son of a traitor.
 
A disgraced, would-be viscount.
 
That confession, made as he was deep inside
of her body, was a moment he wanted to cherish forever, even though he had not
said the words in return.
 
Foolish
bastard that he was.

It had been the kind thing to do,
really.
 
There was no future for
them.
 
Amy saw that now, surely.
 
Better to hurt her now than later, when the
cuts would be all the deeper.
 
Even now,
he could still smell her scent on his skin, that heady mix of lemons and
lavender, and it drove him insane with a fresh wave of longing.
 

Then he paused, aware of the flaw
in his argument with himself.
 
How could
he ever have been foolish enough to think that one night with her would
suffice?
 
That it would be enough to
sate the desire that had been growing inside of him from the very moment they
had met?
 
Worse, how could he think that
he could live without her?
 

Gibson loved Amy and he could not
let her go.
 
Not now.
 
Not ever.
 
He wanted her beside him forever, and, by God, he would find a way to
have her.

For once in his life, he would not
give up on what he wanted so easily.
 
He
would fight for Amy.
 
And this time, he
would find a way to win.

"I said go away!" Gibson
roared as the knocking came again, louder this time, as if the person were
using a battering ram on the weathered wood.
 
Fed up, he rose and stalked to the door, intending to use all of his height
and aristocratic bearing on whoever was on the other side.
 
So when he yanked the door open only to find
a badly beaten Lord Drake clinging unsteadily to a wall and clutching an old
metal pot he'd used to make the commotion in the first place, Gibson was taken
aback, not knowing what to think.

The man nearly collapsed as Gibson
helped him inside, wrapping a strong and steadying arm around the other man's
shoulders.
 
It was then that Gibson felt
the multiple breaks in Drake's bones.
 
His left arm was nearly shattered and his right shoulder drooped, indicating
the young lord might have a broken collarbone among his other, more obvious
injuries.
 
For as much as Gibson
disliked Drake, he was still a physician at heart, and this man's wounds, while
not life-threatening, were still extremely disturbing.

"Who did this to you?"
Gibson asked as he helped Drake onto a fainting couch, and then sent his
houseboy out in a rush to locate Dr. Hastings at his practice a few houses
away.
 
There was a chance, assuming Drake's
arm could be saved at all, that more than one pair of hands would be needed to
set the splintered bones.
 
Between the
arm and the man's other injuries, Gibson knew he could not do the job alone.

Drake pushed impatiently at
Gibson's hands as the doctor tried to examine him further.
 
"She is in danger.
 
You need to save her.
 
Go.
 
Now."
 
His words sounded
like those of a drunken man, made all the worse by the bloody lip the man was
now sporting.
 
Gibson could not imagine
Marcus Cheltenham inflicting this kind of damage on a person for a slight
against his sister, however vile, but then, the viscount had been gone from
London for a very long time.
 
Three
years.
 
That was long enough to
inherently change a man, especially one who had suffered as much as Marcus
had.
 

It was also tempting to think that
Drake had injured his brain, but there was also a tinge of sincerity and
urgency to his words that Gibson could not ignore.
 
No, he was not suffering from an ailment of the brain.
 
That meant further questioning was in order.

Shaking his head in confusion, Gibson
gripped the door tightly for a moment to steady his own nerves before closing
it softly, not wanting to further upset Drake or add to his obvious
distress.
 
"I don't understand.
 
Who am I to save?"

"Lady Amy."
 
For once, Drake did not slur his words.
 
"Overton found her.
 
He's always known who she was.
 
But after last night, he can't wait any
longer.
 
He knows everything.
 
Even about you."

So many events had occurred the
previous evening that Gibson didn't know which one had forced Overton's
hand.
 
If Drake was even telling the
truth.
 
That remained to be seen.
 
Still, a chill stole over the doctor, and he
knew he had to hurry to get to the truth.

"He knew I was looking into
her past and came to see me.
 
Said I
could have her when he was done with her, but that he wanted the fortune.
 
Her fortune.
 
All of it, down to the last pound."
 
Drake cast his eyes to the side, despondent.
 

Then Drake surprised Gibson by
reaching up to grasp the doctor's hand in a hard grip, grimacing through the
pain, as if the young man wanted to make certain his next words were clearly
understood.
 
"I need her fortune as
well, but I'm not a monster.
 
I don't
want to see her hurt.
 
Or
worse."
 
Then his gaze flicked back
to Gibson, fresh with new panic.
 
"For what it's worth, it wasn't all a lie.
 
I may not love her, but I do care about
her.
 
I do not wish to see her
hurt."

Still suspicious, Gibson regarded
the man thoughtfully for a moment, though his heart was urging him to charge
out the door and to Amy's rescue.
 
"Why me?
 
Why come to me and
not go straight to Breckenright if Lady Amy is, indeed, in danger? He is her
brother after all and can better protect her than I."