Far Beyond Scandalous (2 page)

She met him near the top of the
hill where the summerhouse overlooked a lake on the other side, her hair
bedraggled and her thin, nearly transparent gown clinging to her lush curves,
making him almost forget that, at his heart, he was a gentleman.
 
Almost.

They had tried several doors before
finding one that allowed them entrance, and he had done his best to shut out
the worst of the weather, thankful that the mustiness of the house had its own
type of warmth since building a fire would have been impossible, he quickly
discovered.

It was only when he turned around
to see Amy standing there shivering, her lips tinged blue that true worry set
in.
 
He knew he had to get her warm and
the best way to do that was to strip them both out of their wet things, find a
blanket and share the warmth of their bodies.
 
When he suggested it, he was afraid she might slap him for his
impertinence.
 
If she had, he would have
simply left her there and gone for help, or devised some other plan to keep her
safe and healthy until the rain ceased.
 
Instead, she had simply turned and offered him her back, asking him to
undo her buttons since there was no lady's maid present.

For Gibson, that had been both the best
and worst moment of his life, reveling in the sheer pleasure of actually
touching Lady Amy while silently berating himself for his impure thoughts,
which, he was ashamed to admit, he had plenty of.
 
He was about to embark on the noble course of action and suggest
that he find her a blanket, when she instead looked at him, her blue eyes dark
and full of an emotion that he dared not guess at.

"Please disrobe and keep me
warm," she had asked softly, her normally soft, navy blue eyes now a
stormy midnight hue.
 
"I know that
would be best for both of us, medically speaking."

There was no way he could refuse
her.
 
He was not that strong, and, in
that way, he shared many of his father's failings.
 
Some things were just too temping for Blackwell men to ignore or
resist.
 
They all had their
weaknesses.
 
His father's had been money
and power.
 
Gibson's weakness was Lady
Amy, particularly when she was nude before him.

What had started out as an attempt
to protect her health quickly turned into something more.
 
When Amy had encircled his neck with her
arms and kissed him hesitantly, God forgive him, but he had kissed her back,
quickly escalating the kiss from something sweet and innocent to something
bordering on hot and forbidden.

Gibson was afraid she would slap him
for the liberties he was taking rather freely.
 
He did deserve it after all, taking advantage of an innocent, not to
mention a woman of a higher class than he.
 
Instead, she'd wound her arms more securely around his neck and begged
him for more, to teach her the ways of pleasure.
 
No matter how much he wanted her, he was
not
that much of
a cad.
 
However, he also knew that he
could give her a taste, a small sample of the things he wanted to do both to
her and with her.
 
She hadn't been
happy, but she had agreed.

For him, it was the most perfect
moment of his life when she screamed his name as she found her release, her
body shuddering as she rode wave after wave of pleasure.
 
Or he thought it was until she leaned over
and took him in her mouth, returning the pleasure as best she could, even with
her lack of skills.

Now, as they lay there in the
gathering dark, he knew that they should return to the manor house, and, he at
least, should make his apologies for his delay in returning.
 
After all, there was a dead body to attend
to.
 
However, he could not make himself
care overly much.
 
In this moment, all
that mattered was Amy.
 
Still, they did have
to leave.

"You know that today was
simply a moment out of time," he reminded her, stroking the soft, supple
skin of her back and shoulders when she turned over in his embrace once
more.
 
"This cannot happen again,
not when we are back among the other guests.
 
In fact, after we leave here, it would probably be best if we did not
speak.
 
I cannot trust myself not to slip.
 
I cannot pretend not to still want
you."

"I know," she sighed,
rolling over and baring her breasts to his gaze once more.
 
"Nor can I trust myself, either.
 
Still, I hate that it must be that way
between us.
 
If only..."

Gibson held his finger to her lips
so that she could not finish her sentence.
 
He knew what she was going to say - if only things were different.
 
But they were not, and would never be.
 
He had been born to be a viscount.
 
Now he was a physician.
 
Only the House of Lords or the Prince Regent
himself could undo all of the damage his scoundrel of a father had wrought on
the lives of everyone around him.
 
That
was as unlikely to occur as it would be for Prinny to choose only one mistress.
 
It would simply never occur.

"Life cannot be lived on 'if
onlys,' sweeting.
 
You know that as well
as I."
 
The truth was harsh, but
Gibson knew it needed to be said.

Nodding in acceptance, Amy rose up
onto her elbows and reached for him, her fingers threading through his thick,
dark hair.
 
"I know.
 
Honestly, I do.
 
In fact, I know it far better than you can ever realize.
 
But a few more moments will not harm
anyone.
 
And if I do not experience
these pleasures will you, Gibbs, then I will never experience them with
anyone."

He wanted to correct her, to tell
her that somewhere among the peers of London there was a man who could love her
as she deserved to be loved and could give her everything that she
desired.
 
He wanted to remind her that,
no matter how they both felt in this moment, that man could not be him, much as
he longed for it to be otherwise.
 
He
was not worthy of her and never would be.
 
He might desire her.
 
He might
even love her.
 
But he could not have
her.
 
Not today, tomorrow, or any day
after that.
 
Too much stood between
them.

He didn't say any of those things,
however, for the moment that she brought her lips to his and pressed her lush,
naked breasts against his chest, he forgot everything but the sweet smell and
taste that was uniquely Lady Amy.
 
In
that moment, Gibson's world was perfect, and he was too weak of will not to
push her away.

Middle of March, 1819

London

"Amy, please do sit up.
 
I know you are not overly excited to be
attending Lord Fairhill's ball, but we must at least put in an appearance.
 
It will not do to have your gown crushed and
wrinkled before we even arrive.
 
People
will talk, and we have a reputation as well as responsibilities to
uphold."
 
Theodosia Cheltenham, the
Countess of Evanston wasn't truly annoyed with her daughter, no matter what it
might sound like, and Amy knew it.

Amy also knew that her mother did
not want to attend the dreaded ball any more than she did.
 
However, she also accepted the fact that her
mother was right, as she so often was, and that there were some things that proper
ladies of good breeding simply did, whether they wanted to or not.
 

Especially when one had been dubbed
"The Paragon" by the
ton
, as Amy had been several seasons
ago.
 
Bearing that dubious honor was a
burden that Amy did not want, but also could not escape.
 
On nights like this when she was out of
sorts, she was convinced that it would follow her for the rest of her
life.
 
Prim.
 
Proper.
 
Never a step
wrong.
 
And those slight missteps that
she did make?
 
Easily forgiven and
brushed aside as if they had never occurred.

Drat it all.
 

And drat the responsibilities that
came with being the daughter of one of the most powerful men in all of
England.
 
She was tired of it.
 
All of it.
 
So tired that she was ready to strip naked and run down the street, just
to cause a scene.
 
One that could not so
easily be forgiven.
 
Even if, at the
moment, that wild thought did seem a bit rash.

She wouldn't do it, of course, even
if she did long to break free of her gilded cage.
 
Amy wasn't that kind of lady.
 
She was no doxy or lightskirt.
 
No, she was the most perfect of all English ladies, a paragon of virtue
and propriety.
 
Hence the nickname.
 
Much to her eternal annoyance.

Attending the most boring ball in
London was one of those responsibilities, Amy supposed, especially when the ball
just happened to be given by Lady Georgina Florstair, Countess of
Fairhill.
 
The same Lady Georgina who
also happened to be the head of the Ladies Society for the Advancement of
Medicine, an organization to which both Amy and her mother belonged.

Still, Amy did not have to like the
aforementioned responsibilities, especially when she knew she would be pestered
all night by young bucks who wanted nothing more than to win bragging rights by
being the first man strong enough to find favor with her and openly court
her.
 
It was a competition that had been
going on for years, and, rumor had it, was also the subject of a long-standing
bet in the infamous book at White's.

Not that any gentleman would
mention such a scandalous thing to The Paragon, of course.
 
It simply wasn't done.

At the moment, Amy would prefer to
be home with a good book and her imagination, but for whatever reason, her
mother continually insisted upon dragging Amy about town every night like she
was some kind of prized cow at a local fair.

In her own mind, Amy was decidedly
not
a prize to be won like some cheap trinket at a village fair.
 
Nor was she some trophy with the biggest
dowry, ready to be bagged on the Marriage Mart.
 
She was more than that, and it was necessary that the man she married
understand the depth of who she truly was.
 
She wanted him to see that she could be bold and brash, that she could,
occasionally, make a social misstep.
 
That, gasp, she might even cause a scandal.
 
If only.

 
However, no man of her acquaintance seemed to understand her
position.
 
Or her, for that matter.
 
All they cared about was the money, power,
and prestige that could be garnered by securing her hand and bringing "The
Paragon" to heel.
 
And that was
something that Amy would not tolerate.
 
The men sniffing around her skirts either saw her as she was, or they
did not get to possess her.
 
It was
simple enough, and yet so utterly complex at the same time.

Well, there was one man who saw her
as she truly was, she amended silently, but he was unsuitable for her in the
eyes of Society.
 
And always would
be.
 
She could not have him, and it
would be best to remember that.
 
As if
she could forget.
 
Still, she knew she
needed to somehow move forward with her life and not remain trapped in the
past, no matter how preferable that seemed.
 
Not to mention pleasurable.

Sometime soon, Amy knew that she
would have to make a choice.
 
She could
not have her heart's desire, so she would have to settle for something less -
either a man she did not love or true spinsterhood.
 
She decided that she might as well start learning that lesson now
- about doing what one ought to, rather than what one wanted.
 
What better lesson to start with than this
dreaded ball?

"I will do better, Mama,"
Amy said with a sigh as she straightened her posture, earning a wan smile from
her mother, even as their carriage hit a particularly rough patch in the
road.
 
"I promise.
 
It is simply that this ball will be..."
 
She didn't have the heart to finish that
sentence.
 
It seemed that perhaps Amy
was not quite as ready to give in to inevitability as she had supposed only a
moment before.
 
Thankfully, her mother
finished the thought for her.

"Boring as weak tea.
 
Yes, I know, my darling girl, but it cannot
be avoided."
 
Theodosia, more
commonly called Thea, sighed as well, and it was obvious to Amy that her mother
didn't want to attend this
fête
any more than Amy did.
 
"However, your father needs the
viscount's support in the House of Lords in order to pass his new irrigation
bill when he returns from this most recent trip.
 
And do not forget that the medical society needs Lady Fairhill's
well-stocked coffers.
 
As does your
friend, Dr. Blackwell."

Amy was thankful that the darkness
of the carriage hid her sudden and probably rather obvious blush.
 
She was fairly certain that her mother
didn't know about the long and wonderful afternoon Amy had spent in Gibson
Blackwell's company the previous year, but she wasn't quite certain enough for
comfort.
 

There were times that Amy caught
her mother studying her, as if Thea somehow knew, or at least guessed, her
daughter's most carefully guarded secret.
 
At the very least, Thea knew that her daughter was, or at least had
been, infatuated with Gibson at the end of the previous season. Though, to the
countess' credit, she rarely spoke of it.
 
Instead, she simply gave Amy a disapproving glance whenever his name
came up.

And, as Prinny had named Gibson the
crown's official liaison to the medical society over the winter season, the
good doctor's name came up in conversation with alarming frequency.

"I am aware of that,
Mama," Amy replied automatically, hating that her relationship with her
mother, once the envy of all mothers and daughters in the
ton
, had
become so strained over the last several weeks.
 
Though for what reason Amy wasn't quite certain.
 
Ever since her father departed for this last
trip north, nothing had been the same, and it irked her.
 
More than that, it hurt.

Amy thought that the tension might
be because her mother suspected her headstrong daughter of having feelings for
Gibson - which was true - and was fearful Amy might act on them.
 
That was, of course, the last thing Amy
would do, but no amount of reassurance could quell Thea's fears for some
reason.
 
She was still upset with her
daughter, and it showed.

However, Amy also prayed that the
distance wasn't caused because Thea had discovered that Amy and Gibson had been
naked together for the most wonderful afternoon of Amy's life.
 
That was the one thing Thea could never
know, and a secret that Amy was fully prepared to take to her grave.

In an effort to distract her mother
from the path her thoughts were surely venturing down, Amy attempted another
tactic.
 
"It is merely that the
place is always such a crush, the food is third quality at best because Georgina
so dislikes paying for better, the punch is always watered down, and it is
usually so hot that at least five or six ladies faint from the lack of air in
the room."

When her mother didn't say anything
in response, Amy added one last comment, probably because she was still feeling
a bit peckish.
 
"And since it's
raining tonight, you know that they will not open the terrace doors for fear of
allowing 'bad air' into the room to make everyone sick, when just the opposite
it true.
 
Which someone in Lady Fairhill's
position at the medical advancement society should know."

Thea began to speak, but Amy wasn't
quite finished yet, her temper beginning to boil over, despite the fact that
moments ago, she had silently pledged to accept her lot in life.
 
In fact, she was rather tired of keeping
everything bottled up inside of her, always playing the dutiful, well-mannered
lady.
 
She was tired of being The
Paragon.
 
It was, in short, exhausting.
 
For once, she wanted to speak her mind and
damn the consequences.
 
For once, she
wanted to let her appearance of perfection slip, even if it was only with her
mother.

"Yes, we need to make an
appearance at this ball to support the society, but it shouldn't even be
necessary if the woman used an ounce of sense and stepped aside to allow
someone who truly cares about medicine head the organization.
 
Her family has controlled it for years, and
what good has it done?" Amy huffed, angry about so many things at that
precise moment, but finding Lady Fairhill the easiest target.
 
"Nothing.
 
She holds the purse strings so tightly nothing is ever
accomplished.
 
So why should we support
her?
 
Why not strike out on our own and form
a new society, one where we can actually do some good?"

If there was one thing that both
Amy and her mother were passionate and in complete agreement about, it was
advancements in medicine.

"I know, Amy.
 
Believe me, I do." Thea said, softening
her tone, a weariness stealing across her face that Amy hadn't noticed before,
which worried her greatly.
 
Not to
mention made her feel ashamed at her outburst.
 
"And I am sorry.
 
I know
that it bothers you that Lady Fairhill holds such a lofty position in a medical
organization when she does little to educate herself."

Amy turned to look out the window,
her face flushed an even deeper red, at least partly from shame.
 
Despite her feelings and her foul mood, her
mother had not deserved to bear the brunt of her daughter's frustrations.
 
"And I am sorry that I lost my
temper.
 
That was uncalled for.
 
I know that we do what we must.
 
Sometimes, however, I become so frustrated
at our lack of progress that I forget myself.
 
I merely wish to see some advancement in what we are attempting, which
is educating the public for a start.
 
Thus far, the society, for the most part, seems unable to educate even
themselves."

That was as far as Amy was willing
to go in voicing her displeasure this time, though she longed to say more.
 
She did not want to lose her temper again
and cause her mother more pain and frustration.
 
Nor did she wish to sound like a petulant child, which was
precisely what she had behaved like only moments ago.
 
Frustrated she might be, but she could not allow emotions to get
the better of her.
 
It wasn't proper.

Amy was the daughter of an earl,
given every luxury she could ever want and granted an exalted place in
society.
 
She should be happy.
 
But she wasn't.
 
She was restless and unhappy.
  
Not to mention that, at the moment, she also felt like an ungrateful
brat.
 
There were others out there,
including men like Gibson, who would be glad to trade places with her.
 
They longed for what she had been granted
simply by the luck of her birth.
 
Some
would even give their lives to obtain what she had.
 
It would serve her well to remember that.

She knew in her heart she should be
thankful for what she had.
 
And she
was.
 
Most of the time.
 
However there were also days when she wished
she could simply walk away from it all and begin again.
 
To live a life where she wasn't viewed as a
golden idol on a high pedestal.