Far Beyond Scandalous (4 page)

Amy snapped her fan closed and
turned up her nose in obvious disgust in the way only The Paragon could.
 
"Dr. Blackwell is my friend, as well as
a friend of the Prince Regent's, who, might I remind you, is part of my
extended family as well.
 
The two of you
would do well to remember that."
 
She could not allow them to speak ill of Gibson any longer, at least not
when she was around to hear it.
 
"Only Miss Worth has the grace and dignity to treat Dr. Blackwell
properly."
 
Then she favored
Letitia with a small smile, knowing that the other girl would probably swoon
with delight.

Amy rarely used her relationship to
the royal family to her advantage or flaunted it in any way.
 
She was well aware that she already had
greater social standing among the
ton
than most women her age did,
simply because of her bloodlines.
 
She
did not want to make that point more obvious.
 
However, there were times, such as this precise moment, when she would
take advantage of every little bit of power that she had to protect someone she
cared about.
 
No matter how much of a
minor scandal it might create.

"Rather protective of a common
laborer, aren't you?" Drake groused, clearly unused to being rebuked,
especially by a woman, even one in Amy's lofty position.
 
On the other hand, it was obvious he didn't
want to anger Amy further, for she could make things decidedly uncomfortable
for him at functions such as these if she wished.

Instead of raising her voice
further, Amy simply affected a serene smile, one that belied the angry churning
inside of her.
 
"He is my friend
and a friend to the prince himself, as well.
 
He is also a friend to Lord and Lady Radcliffe, and was granted the
honor of attending their wedding festivities at Seldon Park just last
year.
 
I doubt they would enjoy hearing
you speak ill of Dr. Blackwell, either."
 
Then she paused before narrowing her eyes and adding.
 
"A gentleman who aspires to win the
affections of a lady, as well as the admiration of his peers, would do well to
learn to be kind to all, including those in reduced circumstances."

When Drake paled and his mouth
gaped open, Amy knew she had wounded him, just as intended.
 
The silly fop thought he could win her
affections by talking about carriages and horseflesh, or by degrading those
around him, especially those he viewed as less than perfect or beneath him in
rank.
 
He couldn't.
 
Nothing he did or said could ever make her
desire him.
 
Not the way she desired
Gibson, anyway.

"He is really your
friend?
 
Truly?"
 
That comment, laced with incredulity, came
from Faraday who was doing his best to come to Drake's rescue, and hopefully,
it seemed to her, to restore the other man somewhat in Amy's eyes without
angering her further.
 
As if such a plot
had been discussed in advance for just such an occasion.
 
Knowing the two men in question, it probably
had been
 
"You're not having us
on?"

"No.
 
I am not.
 
I am a lady and
do not behave so deplorably."
 
Amy
refused to allow any room for confusion in her answer, her expression stern and
her voice still cold, not mention touched with more than a little
condescension.
 
''He saved Lady
Radcliffe's life last year after she was accidentally shot when Lord Landover
attempted to kill Lord Radcliffe in the park during an early morning
stroll."
 
Then Amy sniffed
disdainfully, pulling the guise of The Paragon more tightly around her for fear
someone might see her true motives for defending Gibson.

The accidental "injury"
was, of course, the official story of how Lady Julia had come to receive her
wound from a stray bullet fired during an illegal duel, ensuring that her
reputation remained intact and above reproach.
 
By this time, everyone in the
ton
, including both Drake and
Faraday, knew better than to question it.
 

Amy was not quite finished with her
lecture, however, and adopted her most officious air of snobbery.
 
"He has attended several friends of
mine, including Lord and Lady Berkshire when the marquess unfortunately passed
away last fall.
 
He has treated my
brother, who is, might I remind you, distantly in line for the throne as
well.
 
Not to mention that Dr. Blackwell
cared for me last year when I caught the sniffles while at Seldon Park for the wedding
festivities."
 

It was completely beside the point
that she had been slightly ill only because she had been out in the rain
searching for Gibson.
 
"So, yes, he
is my friend, as well as a friend to many in society, and I will not have you,
or anyone, speak ill of him.
 
He has
done nothing to earn your scorn.
 
He
is.."
 

Amy stopped herself abruptly.
 
She wanted to say that he was the finest man
she had ever known and so much more.
 
But she couldn't.
 
If she did,
everyone would know her secret, or at least guess it.
 
So she simply finished with "one the finest physicians you
will ever encounter."
 
Then, she
bit her lip to prevent herself from saying more.

Amy, in her position as Paragon,
did not defend many people outright, but when she chose to, others listened and
followed her lead.
 
She knew it was a
mark of respect for her, as well as her position in society, and she did not
abuse it.
 
However, just this once, she
decided that she could be forgiven if her actions were viewed as such.

"Forgive us, my lady."
Drake offered, bowing low, though his words lacked true contrition.
 
He was now clearly back to attempting to
court her favor, especially now after he learned of her friendship with Gibson.
 
"It was not our intent to offend or
denigrate one of your friends."

"Of course it was," she
said, her calm
façade
still in place, her eyebrow arching a bit as she
reigned in her temper, "but I shall let it pass.
 
This time."
 
Amy knew
she was bordering on being unspeakably rude, but she no longer cared.
 
The truth was, she hadn't cared in a very
long time.
 
Tonight had simply pushed
her to the edge.
 
Perhaps it was time to
find a way to break free.
 
From all of
it.

She was tired of living a life
trapped behind glass, always one step removed from feeling much of anything.
 
It had to end.
 
Gibson had shown her that life could be different.
 
It could be bright and colorful.
 
Happy and sparkling beyond measure.
 
In short, it could be magic.
 
If only she could find a way.

Without waiting to hear their
reply, Amy gathered her skirts and swept away from the group before she said
something that might reveal how much she truly cared about Gibson Blackwell and
damned them both to a lifetime of censure.
 
Before she said something that would create a scandal that she and her family
could not recover from and would cost him the life he had worked so hard to
build for himself.

Just as she almost had a moment ago
when Drake had been nettling her.
 
She
had almost slipped, almost revealed that she knew deeply private and intimate
information about Gibson's character that she should not be privy to.
 
That would be nothing short of disaster.

No one could know about that
marvelous afternoon in the summerhouse.
 
She had sworn to Gibbs that she would keep quiet, as had he.
 
Tales of that afternoon could and would ruin
both of their lives if anyone discovered the truth.
 
That was the last thing she wanted - for either of them.
 
As the daughter of an earl, she could
probably survive the scandal, especially when the family had done so before.
 
Gibson, in his lowered circumstances, could
not, and she would not put him in such a tenuous position.
 
She cared for him far too much to allow it.

So much as it might pain her, she
would hold herself away from him, defend him when necessary but reveal nothing
more.
 
It was the right thing to do, no
matter how much she ached to do otherwise.
 
She would not give in to her desire to choose the path that led directly
to him.
 
But she would no longer allow
herself to be put on a pedestal, either.
 
The decision had been made.
 
It
was time that the
ton
learned that their Paragon was as flawed as the
next woman, though she did not know precisely how to accomplish that task.

Amy was debating about where she
should venture next, as none of her usual group of friends was in attendance
that evening, when she heard a crash followed by a scream.
 
Turning in the direction of the commotion,
she saw a flash of deep russet silk, the same color of gown her mother was
wearing that evening.

As quickly as she could, Amy
hurried across the ballroom, elbowing and, in one case lightly shoving, anyone
who stood in her way, delicate sensibilities be damned.
 
There was no time to tarry.
 
Nor was there any time like the present to
show society the cracks in her perfect, ladylike
façade
.

 
When she finally reached the edge of a growing circle of onlookers, Amy
found Gibson already kneeling beside her mother who was lying prone on the
hard, cold floor.
 
Thea's eyes were
closed, and she looked deathly pale.
 
In
that moment, Amy's heart lurched, and she knew instinctively that it was her
turn to be the strong one for a change, her dreams of being free of social
convention immediately put aside.
 
She
had studied enough medicine to know that, whatever the illness, her mother
would be incapacitated for quite some time to come.
 
It would be up to Amy to keep the household running.

"Mama?"
 
Lady Amy's voice was barely a whisper, but
Doctor Gibson Blackwell heard her very clearly.
 
No matter where he was, he would always hear her when she spoke.
 
He was certain of that.
 
There was no way he could ever forget the
woman who had grabbed hold of his heart and would not let go.

He wanted to ease the look of
distress on her beautiful face, but he couldn't.
 
Not only was it not his place, but he had a job to do.
 
Her mother had suffered an attack of some
kind, perhaps heart, and while he didn't think it would kill her, it was
serious enough that he was extremely concerned for her health.
 
Comforting Amy would have to wait.
 
If it occurred at all.

"Give us room!" he
barked, wanting the crowd to pull back, knowing that, though he might wish it,
he could not make them disappear completely.
 
The oppressive heat in the infernal ballroom was enough to make anyone
faint, including him, and he was in perfect health.
 
"And for God's sake, someone open the damn doors!"

Lady Fairhill looked as if she was
about to object, perhaps swoon, or possibly be scandalized, but then she took
in the menacing glare on Gibson's handsome face and instructed the servants to
do as he had commanded.
 
She also gave
orders to several other footmen to begin moving people back away from where
Gibson knelt over Lady Evanston.

When a footman put his hand on Lady
Amy's arm in order to move her back as well, he growled "not her, you
fool" and the man quickly released her.
 
That seemed to spur Amy into action, and she rushed to her mother's
side, kneeling on the floor beside him, regardless of the stares and whispers
her actions generated.
 
Her eyes were
worried, her expression serious, and he knew that she understood the gravity of
the situation.

Lady Amy had been around tragedy
enough to know that this, whatever it was, could possibly be fatal if not
treated immediately and correctly.

"Will she live?" Amy
asked softly, swallowing hard, as Gibson began examining her mother.
 
He was pleased to note that some color was
returning to the countess' cheeks.

"Yes.
 
I believe so."
 
He began testing Thea's limbs for broken
bones, as she had hit the marble floor rather hard when she had fallen, but
thankfully, he didn't find any.
 
"But she is not well, either."

"I know that.
 
I can tell simply by looking at
her."
 
Amy's voice - for as
intimate as they had been, Gibson could not call her by her title any longer,
at least not in his own mind - was still quiet, almost fearful, and he risked
looking away from his patient to glance up at her.
 
What he saw in Amy's eyes alarmed him quite a bit.
 
"She hasn't been in some time.
 
Weeks.
 
Perhaps months.
 
I am not
certain."