Far Beyond Scandalous

by Bethany Sefchick

  Gibson could not allow such a thing to happen again. He needed to be strong. For Amy. No more touching. No more kissing. And certainly no more allowing her to taste the simmering passion they shared. No matter how much he might want to.

  He didn't have time to worry over the issue further, however, for the moment Lady Julia spied Lady Amy, the duchess made haste towards her friend, practically dragging her husband, Benjamin Sinclair, the "fearsome-to-all-but-his-friends" Duke of Radcliffe behind her. It was a slightly comical sight to see, at least in Gibson's opinion, especially when the duke appeared as if he was capable of eviscerating someone with just a simple glare.

  "Lady Amy!" Julia cried as she reached her friend's side, "I have been so worried about you and your mother. I was going to call upon the both of you the day after the Fairhill's event, but my husband thought that an extremely bad idea." She cast the duke a dark glare. "He was worried I would only be in the way."

  "You would never be in the way," Amy quickly assured her friend, as she dipped into a quick curtsey before both of the Radcliffes, "but I will admit that it was a bit hectic that morning, what with making certain that both my father and my brother were informed of the incident, as well as attending to small details to ensure that my mother has the care she needs. However, you would have been welcome at any time. You know that."

  Lady Julia stuck her chin defiantly in the air as she continued to glare at her husband, and Gibson noted again that her extensive scars did little to disguise the pure beauty of the new Duchess of Radcliffe. In some ways, they enhanced her looks, forcing one to truly concentrate on the magnificence of her as a whole, rather than the lines that covered her face and ran down her neck to dip below her the top of her gown. Another, less self-assured woman would have lived a life in hiding because of those scars, but not Lady Julia. She had defied society and made a brilliant match for herself along the way. She was an extraordinary woman, and he counted himself lucky to be among her friends.

  "My Lord. My Lady." Gibson offered each of them a low bow. Out of all of the people here, the duke and duchess were the highest ranking, and yet they were also the ones he felt the most comfortable with. Radcliffe knew Gibson's secret - had known it for years really - and Lady Julia was his friend as well. For once, his lack of social position did not matter. "It is wonderful to see you both."

  Lady Julia turned her bright gaze on Gibson. "And what is this I hear about you escorting our fair Lady Amy out in Society? Is it true? Balls? Ices at Gunter's? Walks in the park? Even the opera one night, and a musicale last evening, if I am to understand correctly?" It was no secret that Julia wanted to see a match made between her best friend and the physician, but Gibson also knew that not even Lady Julia or her powerful husband could work that kind of miracle.

  Inclining his head, Gibson offered Lady Julia another small bow. "It is all true, my lady. With Lady Evanston falling ill, it was the wish of the family, specifically Lord Marcus, the Viscount Breckenright, that Lady Amy's social events continue while I assess her health for signs of a potential apoplexy." As he lied through his teeth, he prayed that the couple would simply take him at his word and not question his story, at least not in public. At worst, Gibson would prefer them to think him a grasping social climber rather than to demand an explanation that he was not at liberty to give.

  The duke, who was a well-educated man, wore an expression of utter disbelief, but, as he also supported a match between Amy and Gibson, he merely nodded as if in complete agreement. Then Radcliffe gave Gibson a quick wink to let the other man know that the he understood the story to be a complete fiction, but trusted the physician enough to know that there had to be a good reason for the falsehood.

  Gibson let out a sigh of relief. Amy's friends would not question, but rather support. It felt good, much to Gibson's surprise, and provided him with a new sense of ease. It demonstrated their level of complete trust in Gibson, especially where Amy was concerned.

  The duke offered Gibson a wry smile. "That is wise, Dr. Blackwell. Too many people ignore their health these days. I would hate to see our beloved Lady Amy fall ill, especially when her mother is recovering so well." Then Radcliffe looked to where Lady Isabelle, the gray-clad chaperone sat along the far wall. "And it is not as if you aren't observing the proprieties, after all. Then again, I would expect nothing less from a man of your integrity and standing."

  Even for a friend, that was laying the compliments on rather thick. Out of the corner of his eye, Gibson caught of flash of movement, a body clad in a bright, almost glaring, purple waistcoat paired with a shirt trimmed in gaudy white lace, and looking ever so much like a dandy.

  Lord Drake.

  "Thank you, my lord," Gibson replied, playing along, making himself appear both humble and yet a potential romantic threat at the same time, if such a thing was possible. And he wasn't completely certain that it was. "As the Prince Regent himself is a member of Lady Amy's family, I would be remiss if I did not do everything in my power to keep her well and healthy. It is my duty to God and country, but I also have a duty to my patients. Duty to them before all else." Gibson would do anything for Amy, and he had the feeling that Radcliffe had already surmised as much.

  A mischievous smile touched the corners of Radcliffe's lips, and it was clear the duke was in the mood to have some fun, a rare occasion for him. It also helped Gibson to understand a little better why Amy was so fond of the couple. "That is good to know, Doctor. Excellent, really. It is a pleasure to finally meet a man with true morals in this day and age. Not to mention that we are all thankful for your service. Isn't that right, Lord Drake? And to think, you attempted to coerce your poor aunt into forcing this lady into leaving the good doctor's side. Had you but known, I'm certain you would never have asked it of someone so good, kind, and generous as Lady Saintwood."

  Instead of replying, Drake simply stood there rooted to the spot as if he were a tree. Gibson could almost see the fear rolling off the young lord in waves.

  "Speak up, my boy," Radcliffe prodded a bit more forcefully while doing his best to repress a smile, "And don't just stand there sniveling in the corner like a fool. Come out where we can all appreciate it. Remember, some of us are a bit hard of hearing these days." It was a poorly kept secret among the ton that Lord Landover had accused Radcliffe of being old and decrepit during the previous season when Landover was attempting to stir up trouble for the duke and ruin Lady Julia's reputation.

  Apparently, Drake's attempt to use his aunt to influence Amy's opinion of the erstwhile, would-be suitor had also made it back to the duke's ears. And the duke was clearly not amused, especially since Amy was his wife's dear friend. Radcliffe was also known for his rather odd sense of humor, and Gibson could see why at the moment.

  "I... Well... I really don't..." Drake was unable to form a coherent sentence with Gibson glaring at him, and Radcliffe blatantly exposing the young man's intentions where Amy was concerned. Looking around in a panic, Drake finally offered the duke a stiff bow before he made his escape. "If you will excuse me, my lord, I really must be off. Prior commitments and all, you know." His face was flushed a beet red, and it was plain that he was angry at both Gibson and Radcliffe for having embarrassed him. It was also evident that he knew there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

  Then, in a flash, Drake was gone, scurrying back into the crowd, and the heads that had all turned in their direction at the beginning of the incident now turned back to their original conversations. Though it wasn't lost on Gibson that a few still watched the little group warily, as if wondering when the upstart physician would receive the same treatment from the duke.

  "I don't care for him," Radcliffe finally said when Drake had scampered off. "Reminds me of Landover, filthy bastard that he is." Everyone vividly remembered when the Marquess of Landover had attempted to come between Benjamin and Julia in a futile attempt to exact revenge for a supposed past wrong. Most also remembered Landover fleeing to the Continent at the end of last season, ev
en if they did not know precisely why.

  Gibson offered a shrug, as he was in complete agreement with the duke. "Neither do I."

  That made Radcliffe laugh, one of the few times Gibson had ever seen him do so.

  "Ah, I do like you, Blackwell. Very much so." There was genuine warmth in the duke's words, and Gibson appreciated it more than he could say. "We are having a small house party later this summer at Seldon Park before my wife goes into her confinement at Spring House. I would greatly appreciate it if you would join us. May I have my secretary send you an invitation? It's a small, informal gathering, mostly family and some close friends, so don't worry about anything overly formal. I know it is not considered the thing to keep parties such as this one on the small side, but that is the way I prefer it. I do so dislike crowds"

  At a loss for words, Gibson could only nod for a moment before he found his voice. "I would be honored, my lord. Thank you." An invitation to return to Seldon Park? Issued by the Duke of Radcliffe, the brother-in-law of the Duke of Candlewood, and one of the most respected men in all of England? Had Gibson fallen and hit his head? Better yet, had the duke? Gibson did not think so, but could not be sure. This was beyond anything he dared to hope.

  The duke looked once more at where Drake had disappeared. "Please. Call me Radcliffe. All my friends do." Then he smiled warmly at Lady Amy, and Gibson understood why the man had endeared himself to Amy so quickly. The duke defended those he cared about. That appealed greatly to her sense of fairness and honor. "Dr. Blackwell, you are taking care of those most important to me and my wife, and you are accomplishing that task with a decorum that many of those who claim the title of gentleman lack. For that, you have my highest regard."

  Gibson could do little more than bow again. "My lord, I shall be there. And thank you. I do appreciate your words of confidence." More than he could say, really.

  "Good. Good." Obviously satisfied with the situation, Radcliffe offered his arm to his wife. "Shall we take a turn around the dance floor before we make our excuses and depart, my love?" There was no question that the one-time confirmed bachelor loved his wife deeply, and Gibson longed to be able to show Amy the same affection.

  Julia's expression was utterly serene as she took her husband's arm. "Do you doubt it?" she teased before making her good-byes to both Amy and Gibson, promising to call at Cheltenham House in the near future.

  When they had departed, Amy glanced at Gibson, her eyes wide and shimmering with excitement. "Would you really return to Seldon Park for the house party?" Then, she added as an afterthought. "He really does like you, you know. And for the most part, Benjamin doesn't care for many people."

  Feeling far more confident than he had moments ago, Gibson tucked Amy's hand securely into the crook of his arm and began to lead her back towards the dance floor. "I do mean that. For a man like me, that exchange meant everything." Truly, it did. Men like Gibson who had been stripped of everything did not get second chances. Ever. That he had received such praise from the duke, even with Gibson's relatively lofty position as one of the Prince Regent's physicians spoke volumes. Gibson might never be able to claim Amy publicly, but perhaps he could reclaim some regard from those that would have been his peers.

  For the first time in longer than he could remember, Gibson felt, well, happy, he supposed was the word he was looking for. There was hope in his life, and despite the pain that would come when things ended, he was enjoying a brief moment in time with the woman he had come to care for a great deal. A woman that perhaps he might love, even though he wasn't certain that he believed in that emotion any longer.

  Love had always let him down. Love was hurt and pain. It brought nothing but disappointment and misery, at least in Gibson's experience. But for now, whatever this emotion bubbling inside of him was, it left him feeling buoyed and hopeful for the first time in years.

  It was more than a man like Gibson had a right to ask for.

  He was feeling so exuberant that he did something he never thought he would be brave enough - or perhaps foolish enough - to attempt.

  Taking her hand in his, Gibson bowed low and looked up at Amy through hooded eyes, praying that she could not read his less-than-honorable intentions. "My lady, may I have this next dance?"

  Amy felt as if she was floating on air, living in a dream world where her every desire became reality. All she had to do was wish it so. The sparkling ballroom seemed brighter, the ladies' elaborate dresses more vivid in color, and the handsome gentlemen more dashing. The very air around her seemed to smell sweeter than she remembered, and the heat of the crowed ballroom not stuffy, but merely welcoming. Jewels glittered like icy fire and conversation was muted so that she only heard the compelling music of the orchestra that seemed to command her feet to move in exact time with the individual notes themselves.

  She was dancing with Gibson in front of the ton and no one, not a single person, was causing a scene. Even if they didn't precisely approve, no one was demanding that he take his hands from her person and leave. It was glorious!

  It was her plan, come to life, and she knew better than to question it.

  The seductive heat of Gibson's body enveloped Amy, forcing her to relax into his embrace, and she gave herself leave to study him. He was clad once more in his usual black evening attire with the gray-shaded waistcoat. Yet tonight, he was different somehow. Bolder, was perhaps the word she was looking for. Or maybe more confident. Whatever it was, he seemed more dashing tonight, more daring, as if he really was her prince charming.

  She could feel the press of his hand at the small of her back, reveled in the way the spicy scent of him teased her nose, and made her think of the way he had been that August day. He had been so patient with her, his well-muscled body partly hidden in shadow as she explored all of him, right down to the very essence of his manhood. She found herself becoming aroused as she imagined taking him in hand once again, of being with him as she had been that day.

  Naked. Unafraid. Brazen. Scandalous.

  And completely satisfied.

  As she moved through the steps of the dance, Amy cherished every moment that they were together, secreting those feelings away inside of her heart, afraid that an opportunity like this might never come again, despite her plan. And truthfully, it might not, at least if the society matrons had anything to say about it.

  A quadrille or even a country dance would have been more appropriate, just as they had done at Seldon Park, but the next set had been a waltz, and Gibson was too much of a gentleman to leave her standing in the middle of the floor, devoid of a partner. Not to mention that he had asked her for the next set. Probably knowing in advance that it was a waltz.

  Amy could feel society's eyes on them as they moved, curious and ready to gossip at the slightest misstep. However Lady Isabelle, in her rather noticeable gray gown, was still seated among the chaperones and wallflowers, a serene smile on her face, and had not uttered a single word about how inappropriate the dance was.

  Even though it was. And everyone well knew it.

  Amy knew it, too, and she was also aware that Gibson knew it as well. But for once, she didn't give a fig what the others thought. She was doing as she pleased for once, in that moment refusing to be defined by the paragon label that had dogged her for so many years.

  She was simply a lady dancing with the man she was coming to love. Not merely lust after, but love. For all that she desired him, there was something more blossoming between them, and Amy could no longer deny it.

  There was a depth to Gibson that she had not seen before. Yes, he was handsome, undeniably so, but he was also strong of character, more good and noble than any man of her acquaintance. Few men would do for her what he was - putting their life on hold to assist her, with little to no hope of receiving anything in return other than extreme gratitude. He was simply doing it because he was Gibson, and because he cared for her. Because they were more than friends and forever would be. In Amy's experience, men like that simply did not exist. />
  The only incident to mar the otherwise complete perfection of the dance was the sight of Lord Drake lurking in the back of the ballroom near the terrace doors, his arms crossed and a look of sheer hatred on his face. He loathed Gibson; that was no secret. Tonight, however, the way the young lord silently fumed at the physician took dislike to an entirely new level, one that Amy wasn't comfortable with.

  Then, Gibson spun her into a turn, and Drake and his ugly purple waistcoat were forgotten.

  Amy was in Gibson's arms, just as she had longed to be, and the way he was looking at her let her know that he was feeling the same magic that she was. His expression was almost wistful, as if he was well aware that this moment could not last, so she offered him her brightest, most flirtatious smile, and prayed to God that for just this one moment, they might be happy. That for once, she could have something she desired without fear of it being taken from her or having to play a role she was no longer comfortable with.

  Someone, somewhere must have been listening for out of the corner of her eye, she saw Drake rise and leave, taking his aggravating stare with him. Leaving only Amy and Gibson under the slightly mistrustful, but far more forgiving eyes of the rest of polite society.

  Her expression must have softened for Gibson pulled her ever so slightly closer and whispered in her ear. "I do not know what has put that dreamy expression on your face, but I dare say that I like it immensely."

  You, Amy wanted to shout as loudly as she could. You, Gibson Blackwell, have put it there. All that I feel is wrapped up in you.