Far Beyond Scandalous (8 page)

Tears pricked Amy's, eyes and she
attempted to fight off yet another urge to cry.
 
This time, she gave in, tired of being strong.
 
"Please, Gibson, don't let her die.
 
I'll do whatever you wish, whatever is
necessary.
 
I don't want to lose
her.
 
She is all I have.
 
Yes, I have my father, and while he cares
for me, he is never really here.
 
My
mother is all I have in this world to cling to."

A part of her was embarrassed for
confessing so personal and private a thing, but if she could not tell Gibson,
then whom could she tell?
 
No one.
 
There was no one in the world who knew or
understood more about her than he did.
 
Not even Marcus.
 
As the tears
slid silently down Amy's face, it was as if she could feel the wall between
them slowly start to crumble.
 
In a way,
it was relief.

Gibson wanted to say that she could
cling to him, but it wasn't his right.
 
It never would be.
 
Instead, all
he offered her was a risky friendship, and even that was pushing the boundaries
of propriety a bit too far.
 
Still, he
would not change his mind.
 
He cared for
her, perhaps more than he should.
 
Secretly, he knew he would do anything for her.

"Then I will do my best to
ensure that you will not lose her.
 
If
it is within my power to keep her from death, I will, even if it means that I
step down as one of the Prince Regent's advisors.
 
I will be by your side until your father returns, whatever the
risks."
 
He wanted to offer more,
but, for the moment, that was all that he could manage and not seem like a
besotted, lovesick fool.
 
Though he was
probably that, too.

His words struck right to her
heart.
 
Amy was in awe that Gibson would
risk so much for her, especially given the time that they had been apart, and
the way she had treated him that evening at the museum.
 
In that moment, she lost another small part
of her heart to the man.
 
Not that he
didn't own almost all of it already, though she doubted he realized it.
 
"Why?"
 
Her voice was barely a whisper.
 
"Why would you risk that?
 
You have worked so hard for your position with Prinny!"

Gibson knew it was time for more
honesty.
 
Amy deserved it.
 
She deserved so much more, really.
 
However, all he could offer her was the truth.

"Because you are my friend,
Amy, and, perhaps a bit more.
 
Were
circumstances different, I would like to think so, anyway, especially after
what we shared."
 
He noted that she
blushed all over and couldn't help but remember the way her skin had flushed
the first time he had told her that he found her beautiful.
 
"That afternoon between us...
 
It changed so much, for me at
least."
 

This was the first time he had
spoken of that day since it had occurred.
 
It was right that he should speak of it with her.
 
Right that he told her, though he did not
deserve her nor could he offer her anything, he still cared.
 
Deeply.
 
He probably always would.

Amy clenched her hands together
tightly, fighting the urge to reach for Gibson as was her instinct.
 
Did she truly dare believe that he still
cared for her?
 
"It did for me as
well."
 

In truth, she wanted to fling
herself into his arms at that moment and allow his strength to comfort
her.
 
However, time apart had made her
more than a little uncertain, not to mention that this was London.
 
The rules were different here. Worse, what
if he no longer felt as strongly as he had that magical day?
 
He intimated that he still felt the same,
but what if she was misreading things?
 
She could not bear that on top of the other tragedies that had already
occurred that evening.
 

Gibson's eyes were filled with
concern, and she saw the truth of his desire for her in their golden
depths.
 
"More than that, sweeting,
you need my help.
 
You are a female
alone in a man's world."
 
Her heart
soared at his use of the endearment.
 
"I will not abandon you.
 
My
conscience will not allow it.
 
Prinny
can fend off his indigestion by himself for a bit."
 

Then, he stroked a thumb over the
back of her hand.
 
He found that he
could not keep silent about the other part of his reasoning for wanting to
assist her.
 
Just like her mother's true
condition, she needed to know the truth if this plan was to work.
 
"And because I find that despite our
time apart and our vow to forget that afternoon, I cannot.
 
Nor do I want to.
 
I hope and pray that you feel the same, at least a little.
 
For me, whatever the tragedy that
precipitated it, I cannot be completely sorry for the gift of time with you
that I have been given."

Amy smiled then, the first smile
that had graced her face since her mother had fallen ill.
 
It was inappropriate, but that did not stop
the warmth of feeling from blossoming deep inside of her chest.
 
He still cared.
 
Thank God.
 
"I
thought I was the only one who could not forget, who continued to wish that the
situation was different.
 
I thought that
you regretted that day."
 
It had
been her greatest fear.

"No, sweeting, you were not
the only one.
 
And I regret nothing, at
least not where you are concerned.
 
Even
if we cannot repeat that day, I will never forget it, either.
 
It was the best day of my life."
 
Amy was silent for a moment, simply staring
at him as if she could not believe he had just bared part of his soul to her.

Gibson wanted her to speak, to say
something.
 
To either accept or reject
his words.
 
Yet she did nothing, as if
the shock had rendered her frozen in place.
 
He could not bear it.

So he did perhaps the worst thing
imaginable.
 
Or maybe the best.

"God forgive me," he
mumbled as he pulled Amy to him and kissed her - the same way they had kissed
that day at Seldon Park - hot and hungry and full of desire.
 
The moment their lips met, he knew he had
made a terrible mistake.
 
For at the end
of this, wherever his time with her might lead, he didn't know if he would be
able to walk away.

Society
Tales

It seems that all of London
cannot stop discussing the events that unfolded at Lady F.'s ball last
evening.
 
Though the ball itself was
sadly disappointing and lackluster, the collapse of Lady E. made the night memorable,
and, to this author's way of thinking, not in a positive way.
 
It was fortunate that one Dr. G.B. was
present at the
soirée
, and was able to attend to the injured lady
immediately.
 
It should also be noted
that the man fiercely overruled the notorious lady's iron-clad rule that the
terrace doors should remain closed and locked at all times during such events,
indicting that the physician in question is, indeed, a force to be reckoned
with this season!

He quickly escorted the lady and
her daughter, Lady A., away from the scene for their own safety.
 
It has reached this author's ears that the
family, as a whole, is in questionable health.
 
If this is true, will we see the dashing doctor out and about in society
more often, caring for his charges?
 
Given that the family in question has ties to the throne, it is
extremely likely.

It is also interesting to note
that the good doctor cut a dashing figure in his evening clothes and caught the
eye of many an eligible woman before tragedy struck.
 
However it was plain for this author to see that he only had eyes
for one woman, though I suspect that no one else noticed his longing looks in
her direction before the melee began.
 
Which lucky woman could that be?
 
Hmm?
 
I shall not divulge that
information, but I will say that, in this author's opinion, the match would be
a brilliant one - on both sides.

- Lady X

The next morning as she waited for
Gibson and Michaels to finish their discussions regarding Lady Cheltenham's
duties to the estate, Amy could still feel the heat of Gibson's kiss on her
lips.
 
After learning of the countess'
condition, Michaels had summarily forbidden Amy from commenting on the meeting,
much to her annoyance, though, at Gibson's warning look, she had not pressed
the issue.
 
However, she had insisted
upon remaining in the room with the two men as they talked.
 
Gibson had a plan and she would trust
him.
 
She had to.
 
She had no other choice.

It was of no consequence,
really.
 
Her exclusion simply gave her
more time to contemplate that magical, wonderful kiss.
 
It had been hot and sweet and hungry, just
as it had been that day in the summerhouse.
 
Unfortunately, it had also made her desire Gibson all over again.
 
And that was something that absolutely could
not happen.
 
Not again.

Not now.
 
Not here, anyway, especially if people like the infamous Lady X
were watching, and apparently, she had been.
 
Closely.
 
Had
Gibson been
looking at her last night from across the room?
 
Amy didn't know, but she had decided earlier that morning that he
probably had been.
 
And Lady X had
noticed.
 
If she had, then had others at
the ball made the same observation as well?
 
There was a good chance of it.
 
Amy would not risk her reputation, and, more importantly, Gibson's medical
practice, for a few more stolen kisses.
 
Sweet as they might be.

If Gibson was barred from
practicing medicine, he would no longer be her mother's physician and after the
splendid news he had given her that morning, Amy knew that would be a true
tragedy.
 
She would not allow such a
tragedy to occur, even if it meant chaining herself to the bed to keep her
hands off of the good doctor, an idea that held a great deal more appeal than
it probably should.

Despite Gibson's caution in raising
false hope the night before, Thea had shown marked improvement overnight.
 
However, if it truly was an apoplexy, he had
informed Amy over a light breakfast of tea, toast and a rasher of bacon, then
the best thing for Thea was to allow her to rest, and give her body time to
heal itself.
 
Not much was known about
conditions involving the brain, he had informed her, but that in his
experience, allowing a person to rest with the aid of a little modern medicine,
including laudanum, was often the best course of action.
 
Gibson had also warned Amy that, despite the
outward signs of improvement, the countess was not out of danger quite yet, and
a full recovery was far from assured.

However that news had been enough
to lighten Amy's heart considerably.
 
Her mother would live.
 
The rest
of the details would sort themselves out; she was certain of it.
 
That was all she needed to know.
 
Given how weary Thea had been before the
attack, the only possible better news - however unlikely - would have been that
her mother had awoken completely whole and healthy, and rather apologetic for
causing everyone so much worry.

And Amy had worried.
 
More than she had ever done in her
life.
 
Even more than when she had been
a young girl on the verge of her come out.
 
Even more than the night three years previous that she had sat up until
dawn with Marcus as he lay in bed struggling to breath, the slices on his chest
from the most recent bloodletting still oozing copious amounts of blood.
 
That night, she had been downright
terrified.

She had spent much of the previous
night lying awake in bed after Gibson had departed, her mind whirling with too
many thoughts, each in need of some sort of order.
 
Had it really only been a few hours earlier when her greatest
worry had been living a life detached from everything and the pressure to marry
this season?
 
In the darkest hours of
morning, that had hardly seemed possible.

Amy was ashamed now that she had
been so petulant with her mother.
 
Had
she known precisely what Thea was facing every day, she might have been a bit
more understanding and forgiving.
 
Well,
Amy would have liked to think she would have been anyway.
 
She didn't want to imagine that she was
becoming as self-centered as those in the
ton
that she despised.
 
Not to mention that Amy's mother had always
been there for her, supporting her daughter no matter what.
 
That kind of devotion deserved better
respect and repayment than the whining Amy had done recently.
 
Not to mention that Amy now realized she had
been extremely selfish.

Whatever Amy wanted for herself out
of life, those dreams had to be put aside, at least for the moment.
 
She had her mother to think of now, as well
as all of the tenants that relied on the Evanston estate for their
livelihoods.
 
They had to come first in
her mind, at least until her father returned or her mother recovered, which
ever came first.

She wanted to believe that Marcus
would step up to help when he received the news as well, but she doubted that
he would.
 
He was, at last report, still
far too weak to travel and probably would be for some time.
 
Still, after she posted the summons for
Michaels the night before, she had also sent a runner to Bath with the news,
hoping that it might elicit some type of reaction from her brother.
 
She could wish, certainly, no matter how
unlikely it might be.

It went without saying that her
mother's plan to see Amy married by the end of the season would have to be put
on hold, as well.
 
There was no possible
way Amy could even contemplate courting anyway with her mother so ill, nor
would she be at many social functions while the countess was
incapacitated.
 
Even if there was a man
who had caught her fancy, well, there were considerations to be made and issues
to be discussed before the idea of marriage could even be considered.
 
And those were topics that Amy would not
even consider broaching without her father, or at the very least, her mother,
present.

Despite her desire to flout
convention on occasion, Amy was not foolish enough to be outright
reckless.
 
Well, at least she hadn't
been until she'd met Gibson.

Gibson.
 
There was no possible way that she could manage affairs without
his guidance, not to mention that he was Thea's physician.
 
It might have all worked out well, this odd
little plan of his, if not for that kiss.
 
That damned, dratted kiss.
 
That
lovely, wonderful kiss.

In an instant, all of Amy's good
intentions to be circumspect and proper had been tossed aside, every promise
she had made to herself to forget him had vanished in wisps of smoke as if they
had never been.

When they had kept their respective
distances from each other, she had been able to convince herself, at least
partially, that the day in the summerhouse had been a fantasy, or, at the very
least, not nearly as wonderful as she remembered.
 
She could make herself believe that the perfection of that day was
built up in her mind out of wishes and dreams.
 
She might long for Gibson, but she could live without him.

Then, he kissed her again, and it
was all for naught.
 
Every good
intention she had evaporated like the dew in the morning sun, just as fragile
and fleeting as if they had never been.

When they had broken apart the
previous evening, both of them breathing hard, Gibson had informed Amy that
such a thing could not happen again, that it was merely a moment of weakness on
both of their parts.
 
He had reminded
her that in London, actions had consequences, and that neither of them could
risk another kiss, even as she saw his fingers twitch, longing to reach for her
again.
 
He could not want her, he
insisted, and she certainly could not want a man like him.
 
They had both known that the words were lies
even as he spoke them.

Oh, they both had good intentions,
certainly, but Amy could see the need in Gibson's eyes as he looked at her, his
wishes written so very plainly on his face.
 
Others might not be able to see them, but she could, probably because
she shared them.
 
The truth was that the
longer they were in close daily contact, the greater the temptation would
become to simply give in and take what they wanted from each other.
 
This time, they might not stop before the
final barrier was breached.

And that, she knew, would be a
horrible mistake.
 
For so very many
reasons.
 
No matter how much she desired
him.

Now, sitting in her father's study,
watching Gibson converse with Michaels, pressing the steward for minute and
seemingly insignificant details, his presence dominating the room, she wondered
again...
what if
 

Then she silently berated
herself.
 
Had she not just made a vow to
be a better daughter?
 
To be strong for
her mother and for her family?
 
To stop
chasing moonlit dreams that she could never catch?
 
And here she was, fantasizing about a man she could not
have.
 
Again.
 
What on earth was wrong with her?

She let out a quiet sigh of relief
when Michaels rose and shook hands with Gibson, the meeting finally at an
end.
 
She had missed most of what had
been said, though she blamed it on her lack of sleep and not because she had
been woolgathering about Gibson.
 
No,
that was absolutely not the reason.
 
Not
at all.

"So we can expect the daily
reports to continue so that Lady Amy may have them sent by courier to
Bath?"
 
Gibson's words made her
quickly return to reality and pay closer attention.
 
Had the steward already agreed to that part of the ruse?

Michaels gave a sharp nod, his gaze
whisking over Amy as she sat behind her father's ornately carved desk as if she
was nothing more than an inconvenience.
 
That was something else she resented - Michaels' easy dismissal of her
as his intellectual equal.
 
However, she
kept her lips clamped firmly shut as the steward replied to Gibson's
question.
 
"Of course.
 
Normally, I would not countenance such a
thing, you realize, but, well, this is an unconventional household, to say the
least."

"I understand your point
precisely," Gibson nodded sagely, his dismissive gaze taking in the darkly
wood paneled room as well as Amy herself seated behind the desk in all of her
feminine glory.
 
His bored expression
indicated that he agreed with the steward's unspoken assertion that too much
unconventionality was a bad thing.
 
"However, we do what we must to keep the aristocracy running, do we
not?"