Far Beyond Scandalous (20 page)

"I came to apologize,"
she said defensively, knowing that even as she did so, she was once more
risking both of their reputations.
 
Once
a fool, always a fool, she supposed.
 
At
least when it came to this man.
 
"I
know you risked much with that dance and, I...
 
Well, I didn't..."

With a sigh, Gibson pulled Amy
tightly to him, crushing her peachy pink, frothy silk dress in the
process.
 
Not that she cared one
whit.
 
She was in Gibson's arms again
and allowed herself a moment to revel in the feeling of being held so tightly
that it hurt.
 

"It is all right,
sweeting," he whispered as he pulled them deeper into the darkness before
leading her down a set of steps she hadn't noticed before.
 
Those led directly into the unlit portion of
the garden, toward the mews and away from the bright lights of the house.
 
As they moved farther away from the house,
the music all but died away, leaving the two of them in near silence.

"I did not mean to leave you
so abruptly," he confessed, once he was satisfied that they were well away
from any prying ears.
 
"But I
feared that if I stayed at your side, everyone would know how I felt.
 
It is becoming harder and harder to keep
silent."
 
The words were
practically ripped from him, but he felt that he had to say them.
 
He owed her the truth and nothing less.

That brought Amy up short.
 
"And how do you feel, Gibbs?" she
asked, pulling away from his embrace a bit, yet remaining safely ensconced
within the circle of his arms.
 
"Yes, we have shared passion and desire several times, but is that
all there is to this?
 
Is there nothing
more?
 
For I know how I feel, and that
frightens me more than I can say.
 
I do
not want to be the only one feeling thus."

Lacing his fingers through hers,
Gibson pulled Amy close once more, praying that she did not feel the full heat
of his arousal pressing against her.
 
For once, he wanted there to be something more than merely sexual energy
between them.
 
"I care for you,
Amy.
 
In fact, I would venture to say
that I am beginning to care a great deal for you.
 
More than I should."
 
He offered her a grim expression, and she glimpsed the pain he was
hiding.
 
"More than is proper.
 
But I cannot help myself, and, despite what
I once told you, I do often wonder what would be if only my place in life were
different."

She tried to speak, but he placed a
finger on her lips so that she might let him finish.
 
"In the ballroom, I was afraid that everyone would look at
me and know that I am in danger of losing my heart to you, if I haven't done so
already.
 
And that is something they can
never know, nor guess at.
 
I care not
for myself or my reputation.
 
You know
that.
 
I have survived thus far, and I
always will.
 
But you?
 
I cannot do that to you and live with
myself."

"But you do feel it?
 
This pounding in your chest?
 
This racing of blood in your veins?
 
For I do still desire you, Gibbs, but now,
it is so much more."
 
Amy knew she
should care more about the rest, including the realities of their situation,
but she didn't.
 
Perhaps she would
tomorrow, but not now.
 
All that
mattered in this moment was Gibson and how he felt about her.
 
If he cared for her, she would figure
something out.
 
However, she would not
risk everything, including her family's reputation and social standing, for
something that was one sided.

It was then that he graced her with
that same sinful grin he had given her at Seldon Park, the one that told her
everything he was thinking and more, without him having to utter a word.
 
"I feel all of that and more," Gibson
reassured her, pulling her closer.
 
"I would give anything to possess you, to have the right to court
you.
 
And there are days when I think
that I will go mad if I do not find a way to make this possible, even though I
know that it is not within my power to have you.
 
Nor
should
I want you the way that I do."
 
He stroked Amy's collarbones with the pads
of his thumbs.
 
"So yes, I feel it,
and, were it within my power, I would profess my growing feelings for you in
front of everyone and have done with it."

Then, with a sigh, he stepped back,
like a balloon being slowly deflated, and she felt a chill at the loss of his
body heat.
 
"But I can do none of
those things, which is why I left you as I did.
 
This must stop, Amy.
 
We
cannot allow anyone to even suspect, at least not more than they already
do."
 
He hated being the practical
one, but it was necessary.
 
Even if she
didn't care for her reputation, he did.

Looking up at him through her
lashes, she sighed in resignation.
 
"I do understand, Gibson."
 
Oh, she understood, but she still hated that they were forced to be
apart.
 
"I would never deliberately
do anything to hurt you.
 
But as long as
I know that you care, it is enough for now."

"I do care, Amy," Gibson
assured her, his voice rough with emotion.
 
"More than you will ever know.
 
That dance?
 
For me, that was the
culmination of a dream I have held in my heart for so long.
 
But dreams cannot survive in the light.
 
They are only meant to exist in the
darkness, no matter how much we might wish differently."

With those words, Amy was
satisfied, at least to a degree.
 
It was
not what she ultimately wanted from him, but it was better than nothing.
 
She might be tired of the hot and cold games
they had been engaging in, but she also suspected he was as well.
 
A little longer, and eventually, he would
have to give in to the inevitable, for this was a war she was determined to
win.
 
She refused to give up on the only
man who had ever seen her for who she really was without a fight.

Gibson's words were not a profession
of love, but neither of them were quite there yet.
 
She wasn't, anyway.
 
Close, but not over the edge, and long ago, she had made a vow not to
say those all-important words to anyone unless she was completely certain that
she meant them.
 
However, that long ago
promise to herself had said nothing about using kissing to convey emotions, and
that, she decided in an instant, was completely allowed.

Rising up on her tiptoes again, she
slid her arms around Gibson's neck and pulled him down to her.
 
He was, she realized, too surprised at first
to resist.
 
However, once she kissed
him, a light teasing caress that hinted of possibilities of things to come, she
found that he was no longer surprised, and instead was very much in favor of
kiss.
 
Much to her relief.
 
And delight.

Society
Tales

The so-called "scandalous
waltz" between Lady A.C. and Dr. G.B. last evening at a certain ball
lacks, in this author's opinion, precisely one thing.
 
Scandal.
 
No matter how
many tongues are wagging this morning over the passionate, and some might call
it indecent, dance, it should be noted that the entire event was conducted for
medical reasons under the watchful eye of one of Lady Berkshire's "Gray
Ladies."
 
To impugn their character
is to impugn that of Lady Berkshire herself, something that no member of good
society should wish upon themselves.
 
At
least not if they wish to keep the good favor of Carlton House.
 
I include myself in that group.

As was noted yesterday, the C.
family's medical crisis is quite real, and, as possible - though rather
distant, admittedly - heirs to the throne, no risk, however slight, should be
taken with their health.
 
Even if
assessing the risk means flirting with the boundaries of propriety.
 
It was, I would remind everyone, merely a
dance, though it did border on slightly improper, I will admit.

As for the rumors that one Lord
N.D. is already alter-bound with the lady mentioned above, I will caution all
of my readers that just because a man is interested, does not mean the lady's
family will approve - especially when fortune is involved, not to mention
bloodlines.
 
This author cautions all
not to spread false rumors, as she has it on good authority that the suit is
unwelcome.

- Lady X

The sun was barely peeking above
the horizon when Amy snatched the stack of scandal sheets from the table in the
front hall.
 
Normally, they would be
brought to the family on a silver tray, neatly folded and with all propriety.
 
These days, propriety was sadly
lacking.
 
Not to mention that she wanted
to see just how badly she had blundered with Gibson last night.

As she lay awake in bed until the
wee hours of the morning, Amy replayed Isabelle's words over and over in her
mind.
 
Until the other woman had
mentioned it, Amy had not given much thought to how her actions would affect
Gibson.
 
Just her.
 
All she had concentrated on was what
she
wanted and desired.
 
How the resulting
scandal would affect her.
 
Then, she had
thrown caution to the wind and allowed herself to be swept away into a fantasy.

Amy had not given a thought to
Gibson.
 
Well, she had, but she hadn't
taken the consequences seriously.
 
She
was the daughter of an earl.
 
She was
The Paragon.
 
Nothing she wanted was
ever truly denied to her.
 
Except
perhaps this.
 
Was it possible that she
had finally found the one man she wanted for a husband and there was truly no
way for them to be together?
 
She had
never considered the very real possibility that, in the end, there was no way
for her dream to come true.
 
That
finally, she had encountered a situation where she could not win.

At least she hadn't until just
before dawn when the magical haze of the romantic dance had cleared from her
mind, and the stark reality of the situation took its place.
 
Isabelle's words finally penetrated Amy's
thick skull and washed away the last of the rosy glow of fantasy and
youth.
 
Despite how much Amy craved
Gibson's company and no matter how much they cared for each other, she had to
consider the very really possibility that they would never be together.

It was in that moment that Amy
finally took off her rose colored glasses and grew up.
 
And she found that she didn't much care for
the experience.

The truth was, Gibson was not a
peer, at least not any longer.
 
He
probably never would be again, and there was very little she could do to alter
the situation.
 

Unlike someone such as Lord Drake
who could trifle with a woman and not suffer any consequences, Gibson could not
be so careless with his actions.
 
If he
were caught in an impropriety with Amy, she would suffer, but he would
too.
 
He would lose his position with
the Prince Regent, and most likely his practice as well.
 
He would be cast into poverty.
 
Or worse.

All because of her.

It was at that moment that the
niggling sense of guilt she had been holding off for so long came crashing down
on her.

Amy knew she was not worth that
kind of suffering.
 
She would not allow
the life of a man she cared for so deeply to be destroyed, all because she was
too selfish to let him go.
 
She would
tell him today.
 
He could still escort
her as he had been, for to stop would only make things worse, but it could go
no further.
 
Much as it pained her.

When they had begun this charade
only a scant few days ago, not allowing herself to become entangled in his life
had been easy to do.
 
Now, it was
not.
 
That first day, she had even been
the one to scold Gibson for taking liberties where he should not, about
avoiding stolen kisses and caresses.
 
Now
she
was the one acting like a child being denied their
favorite sweetmeat.

Somehow, everything had become all
twisted and confused.
 
It had become a
game to her when instead, it was their very lives she was toying with.
 
It had to stop.
 
They were both adults and should start to act like it.
 
They were no longer children, immune to
consequences of their actions.

It was time to step back from the
edge of complete ruin and resume the roles they had laid out for themselves on
that first day - he of escort and she of aging debutante.

Decision made, Amy was about to go
check on her mother when Towson appeared in the morning room, his posture
unyieldingly stiff, as if some affront to the entire Cheltenham household had
been committed.

"You have a caller, Lady
Amy," he announced with a bow, as if it greatly pained him to do so.

Frowning, she rose, placing the
newspapers aside.
 
"At this
hour?"
 
If it had been Gibson,
Towson would have admitted him immediately and without comment.
 
Therefore, it must be someone else.

"She claims to be a
lady," the butler sniffed, his tone indicating that he viewed her
otherwise.
 
"A Miss Letitia
Worth.
 
She says she is a friend of
yours.
 
I, personally, do not
countenance it, though I will leave it to you as acting head of the household
to decide."
 
For the normally
reticent butler, that was quite a speech, revealing just how unsettled he was
by the young woman's appearance.

"Show her in immediately!
 
I will receive her here."
 
Amy had no idea what would bring Letitia to
her family's door at this hour, but it must be important.
 

Towson merely raised his bushy
eyebrows but left to do as requested.
 
A
few moments later, he returned with Letitia trailing closely behind.
 
The young woman wore the same rumpled, and
now slightly stained, gown she had the previous evening, indicating that she
had not been home since before the Coleridge's ball.
 
Letitia also smelled vaguely of ale and something else that Amy
could not name.
 
Truly this was the
season for scandal, it seemed.

When Towson left to fetch a tea
tray, even at that early hour, Amy offered Letitia a seat at the breakfasting
table.
 
It wasn't lost on Amy that the
other woman continually twisted her hands in her lap, her once neatly pressed
gloves now a wrinkled mess, the seams fraying at the edges and the delicate
embroidery horribly snagged.

In short, Letitia looked a mess and
decidedly like something less than a true lady.
 
Now Amy understood Towson's hesitation to admit the young woman.

Together, the two of them chatted
about the weather for a few moments until a maid brought the tea.
 
Once they were alone, however, Amy got right
to the point.
 
"Letitia, please
forgive me, but as I have yet to see my mother this morning, I feel compelled
to ask this rather bluntly.
 
What brings
you here this early in the morning?
 
The
sun is barely in the sky, and even the tradesmen have yet to completely leave
the streets."

"Lord Drake."
 
Those two words were enough to make Amy
tremble with fear, but she did her best to remain composed.
 
Until recently Letitia had been a vicious
gossip.
 
Amy would give her no juicy
tidbit to spread around, if that was her reason for coming this morning.

"What of him?"
 
Amy tried not to appear overly anxious,
though her heart was beating rapidly in her chest.
 
"I saw him at the ball last night and know that he is trying
to court me, even though I informed him again that I wish he would cease.
 
As has my family on numerous
occasions."
 
If Letitia's plan was
to leave here telling tales, then that was the one Amy wished to be relayed to
all of society.

Leaning forward, Letitia put her
hand on Amy's arm, seemingly sensing Amy's reticence.
 
"I know that in the past we have not been friends.
 
For that, I am sorry.
 
I was a foolish girl who was too consumed
with frivolous things.
 
However, I am
not the girl I was even a season ago, and please believe me when I tell you
that you and Dr. Blackwell are both in danger from Drake."

"Stuff and
nonsense."
 
Amy wrapped herself
tightly in the mask of The Paragon once more, feeling an overwhelming urge to
protect herself.
 
And Gibson.
 
She also did her best to fight back the cold
fingers of fear that threatened to creep up her spine.
 
"What have I to fear from Lord
Drake?
 
He is a young pup.
 
I am rapidly approaching spinsterhood.
 
That alone should be enough to dissuade
him."

"He needs your dowry.
 
In fact, he and his family are desperate for
it."
 
Letitia leaned forward, her
mouth set in a grim line and her face serious.
 
"I was, ahem, some place I should not have been last night and overheard
him discussing it.
 
He said that there
are rumors you have a secret, one that even Dr. Blackwell does not know about,
though the good doctor has hired a Bow Street Runner to investigate."

Amy's blood ran cold as she felt a
sharp stab of betrayal.
 
She and Gibson
had promised to be honest with each other - always - after that first night he
had come back into her life.
 
Gibson
hadn't mentioned anything about hiring a Runner.
 
Did he know more about her past than he was letting on?
 
If so, why did he not speak to her about
it?
 
That was unlike him.

Amy's heart sank as she pondered
the possibility that Gibson was just like every other man she had known.
 
Her mind, however, whispered that she knew
him better than that.
 
She knew his
secrets, too.
 
He would not betray or
seek out hers.
 
Still, history had
taught her to be wary.
 
Any friend could
turn if the price was right.
 
And Gibson
desperately wanted to reclaim his place in society, even though he denied
it.
 
Yet Amy could see the desire
written so plainly on his face whenever the topic arose.
 
Would he work to discover her secrets only
to use her so that he might regain his status?

She prayed that was not the case,
for it made her heart ache and her head hurt with immeasurable pain.

"I know nothing about a
Runner," Amy confessed, deciding to stick as close to the truth as
possible, pasting a pleasant smile on her face.
 
"However if Dr. Blackwell has hired one, I am certain that
it is at the direction of Michaels, my father's steward.
 
He continues to run the estate until either
my father or Marcus returns to town."
 
Whenever that would occur, and Amy desperately wished she knew.
 
"If Dr. Blackwell has gone to Bow
Street, I am sure it was at Michaels' direction."

Letitia regarded Amy curiously for
a moment, as if studying a rather intricate puzzle, but let the point drop,
apparently satisfied with that answer, much to Amy's relief.
 
"That still does not ease my mind about
Lord Drake.
 
He means to have you to
wife, Amy."
 
The young woman laid
her hand on Amy's arm again, this time in an unexpectedly kind gesture.
 
"I do not say this to scare you, only
to warn you because I feel you need to know the truth so that you might
properly prepare.
 
I was not at the
Coleridge's ball last night, so I do not know what occurred, only that Drake
was greatly embarrassed."