Far Beyond Scandalous

by Bethany Sefchick

  "He destroyed my life before it even began." Amy raised her chin and brought all of her regal blood to bear. There had to be some good in having been educated in the ways of the royal court since the cradle. "I was a mere child, and he took everything from me. Why do you think I have not married? True, there have not been many men that I fancied, but I could have made a good match had I desired it. But to what end, Mark? I would have to admit to my future husband that I was not an innocent or find a way to deceive him on our wedding night. Neither option was appealing, and I could not very well tell him the truth. So I did not choose a husband at all, knowing that any man I encountered would find me lacking. In his eyes, I would be judged unworthy."

  That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. "Then since I already know your dirty little secret, whore, it should not be a hardship to marry me." Michaels took his time in perusing her body again and if the gleam in his eye was any indication, he liked what he saw. "In fact, I think we should leave for Gretna Green right now. Before anyone stumbles upon us. We have tarried far too long as it is."

  However, Michaels did take a moment to slide his hand down Amy's arm in a caress, and it was all she could do not to recoil from his touch. She could feel his desire in the way he stroked her skin, but unlike Gibson, who touched her out of love and with respect, this caress was born from a desire to hurt and possess. To force from her what she would not give freely. It chilled her to her very bones.

  "I am not going anywhere with you." Amy spoke at the same moment Marcus took a menacing step towards the steward, but she stayed her brother with her hand. The insult Michaels had flung at her stung, but she would not let it bother her. Not now, anyway. She needed to remain calm since it was clear that Marcus was thinking with his emotions and not his head. Like his brother before him, Mark Overton was insane, probably suffering from a madness borne in the blood of family. There could be no other explanation. He was simply better at hiding it than his brother had been.

  Amy drew herself up and faced down Overton as best she could, her own haughty look matching Marcus' almost exactly. "I will not leave, for I have found a man to love me. One who would overlook my flaws and understand that I was not given a choice all of those years ago."

  "Yes, your good and loyal doctor, lapdog to you that he is. I know all about him. In fact, I also know that you spent last night in his bed, cheap and tawdry whore that you are." Michaels shrugged as if that didn't bother him in the least. In truth, it probably didn't. "For that reason, I sent him a little present this morning, one which will keep him occupied for hours I am certain. He may not object to your damaged state, but he also will not reach you in time to keep you safe." Then the steward smiled, his lips curling slightly at the corners, and Amy felt the evil in him directly to her toes. "He also might not live to see the sunset, especially if I think he will cause problems for us going forward."

  Amy's anger flared bright and hot, and she unleashed all of her fury and rage at society on the man standing before her. Just like everyone else, he was conspiring to keep her away from the man she loved with all of her heart. "You will keep Gibson out of this! He is a good man, an honorable one. You will not spread lies about him. You will not hurt him!" She took a step forward, heedless of the pistol that was now aimed directly at her midsection. "If I go with you, you must promise to leave him alone. He will live a long and happy life with no harm coming to him."

  Then she risked a glance back at Marcus and her mother. She could not leave them unprotected either. "You will leave this family alone as well. You will have your revenge on the Cheltenhams, and you will not darken their door again. Not them or their children or their children's children. Do I make myself clear?" Inside, she was quaking in fear, but on the outside, she was cool and collected. Just as Gibson would have been.

  Gibson. If she did this, if she departed with Michaels, she would never see him again, though perhaps that was for the best. He did not love her. Well, she suspected he did, but he was too stubborn and foolish to admit it. Until he took that leap of faith, he had made it clear that they could not be together. If he ever took that leap at all, and she was no longer certain that he would. It broke her heart, but it would not change the love she felt for him. She suspected that a part of her would love him until her dying day.

  He would be proud of her, at least, for what she was about to do. She hoped.

  Michaels appeared to be thinking over her proposition. "Well?" she prodded, eager for this odious business to be concluded. "Do we have a deal? All of them in exchange for me?" It was the best she could offer.

  She had no doubt that Michaels would most likely murder her immediately after he found a way to get his hands on her fortune, but she tried her best not to think about that. She had known when she made her offer that she would be saving Gibson's life, as well as her family's, by sacrificing her own. He, along with Marcus and her mother, would live. His practice would thrive. Marcus would marry and ensure that the Evanston line continued. In the end, that was all that mattered to her.

  "Fine. Yes. We have a deal." Mark Overton still brandished the pistol, but his tone was much calmer. In his mind, he was getting exactly what he wanted.

  "No!" Marcus and Thea said the word in unison, but Amy waved them off with a flip of her hand.

  "It is my choice," she reminded them softly, taking another step towards Overton and trying desperately not to shudder at the thought of the man touching her. Of him sliding his cock into her the way Gibson had done just the night before. It turned her stomach to imagine Overton's hands on her breasts and elsewhere, but she knew that would be the first thing he did once he got her alone in the carriage. He would rape her. She could see it in his eyes. She needed to be mentally prepared for the assault.

  Then, she looked back at her family one last time. "I love you both so much. Mama, I am so very sorry for all of the heartache I have caused you. Marcus, do not be afraid to tell your children stories about me. Please. And when Papa returns home, tell him that I love him. And tell Gibson..." She was unable to give voice to the last part, but she was certain that both her mother and brother knew the truth.

  Tears pricked Thea's eyes and she made to reach for her daughter, but Marcus' hands held her back. He realized that Amy had chosen to save both of them because she believed she was expendable. She was merely The Paragon and not the heir.

  "We know, my darling girl." Thea was shaking now, her delicate health still not strong enough to withstand such an ordeal. "We all do. Including him."

  "I will not allow this," Marcus growled, and it was evident to Amy that he was attempting to figure out how he might best attack. However, with his limited vision, any sudden movement would be a calculated risk at best. "I will hunt you down, Overton, and slaughter you like the coward that you are."

  "It is not your choice," Michaels sneered as he reached out to grab Amy's wrist and yanked her to him, his hot, stinking breath making her want to gag. "Now come along, my dear. We have a long journey ahead of us. And I have so very many delightfully delicious plans for you. Well, to me they are delightful, anyway."

  Gibson's blood ran to ice as he listened to the exchange inside the morning room from his hidden location in the front hall. He had made it to Cheltenham House in record time, tossing the reins of his horse, along with a few coins to mind the beast to a street urchin. Even if the child ran off with the animal, so be it. Gibson had more important matters to attend to.

  Something inside of him, however, had urged him to caution, and he'd crept quietly into the house. There, he had found Towson unconscious just inside the front door, which wasn't locked, just merely pushed closed to preserve the illusion of propriety and make it appear that all was well within the home. The older man was still breathing, much to Gibson's relief, despite the large lump quickly forming on the butler's temple. When Gibson heard the rise and fall of loud voices deeper inside the house, however, he quickly maneuvered the old man into a more comfortable position where he would be safe
and moved on.

  Amy was still here. He was not too late. There was a chance to rescue her.

  He had almost stumbled blindly into the morning room, but good sense had held him back from announcing his presence. Hiding in the front hallway, he had been able to overhear much of the conversation. On any other morning, he would be ashamed and appalled to discover that both Thea and Marcus knew not only of the night Amy had spent in Gibson's bed, but how deeply his feelings for her ran. This morning, however, he had more pressing concerns.

  When he heard Amy offer to accompany Michaels to Gretna Green in exchange for the lives of those she loved, Gibson wanted nothing more than to leap into the morning room and knock the scoundrel to the ground, but a strong hand from behind held him back. The doctor spun around, ready to fight the new intruder, but was instead rendered speechless.

  "Lord Evanston?" The man looked very little like the jovial, doting father that Gibson remembered from the previous season. The earl now sported a craggy, matted beard, and his frame was much thinner, as if he hadn't been eating much as of late. A partially healed scar was just barely visible beneath the beard, streaking up his cheek and ending just under his eye. It was still red and slightly raw in appearance, indicating that it was a recent acquisition.

  The older man held a finger to his lips. "Quiet. We can discuss many issues later. Such as how you plan to care and provide for my daughter once you two are married." The earl's words floored Gibson, but the other man continued on quickly as if he had merely commented about the weather. Evanston inclined his head towards the breakfast room. "For now, we must deal with what is at hand. Do you trust me?"

  All Gibson could do was nod stupidly. This was Amy's father after all, and Gibson had no other choice but to trust him. At least not if he wanted Amy to live - which he most certainly did. Especially now that he'd essentially been granted permission to marry her. Not to mention that he loved her. Desperately.

  "Then go in there and cause a disruption. Just try not to get shot in the process. I would prefer my future son-in-law in one piece if at all possible. I'm certain my daughter would as well." Then the earl was gone, sneaking away down the hall, far more stealthily than Gibson would have credited him for.

  That was not precisely the advice Gibson had been hoping for from his future father-in-law, but it was a plan of some kind, which was better than what he had come up with on his own. Which was exactly nothing. He had no idea where the earl had gone, but, as this was the man's home and family, Gibson trusted him to do what was necessary to defend them all.

  Pulling himself up to his full height and once more donning the mask of Viscount Ardenton, Gibson strolled into the breakfast room as if he were invited guest. He took in the scene before him, including the way Overton gripped Amy tightly, her body pressed into his. From the look of things, the steward, despite his earlier protests, was clearly enjoying the closeness of her feminine curves.

  The scene made Gibson want to strip the flesh from the man's miserable hide, but that would have to wait until later. In this moment, securing the safety of everyone in the room was of the utmost importance. If Gibson had learned nothing else from his sorry excuse for a father, it was that doing what was right wasn't always easy. It was however, necessary and proper.

  "I'm terribly sorry. Am I late to the gathering? I didn't think breakfast to be served quite yet. I can see that I was wrong." Gibson worked hard to be his most officious self, the guise of the viscount firmly in place. "My apologies. To all of you." Then he looked at Michaels. "Had I known that weapons were required, I would have brought one."

  "Stay back!" Michaels swung the pistol around wildly, as if trying to decide on a target that he liked the best. "This is not your fight, my good man. It is mine, even though we both have our own uses, shall we say, for the aristocracy. I thought we agreed on this matter." Then he looked at Amy again who was shooting daggers at him with her eyes. "Then again, men like us will often do whatever is necessary to get such a pretty little piece between the sheets, will we not?"

  Gibson smiled the way his father would have, the lessons from his childhood burned into his brain. At the time, he had despised the lectures his father had given him on how to treat women as if they were nothing more than property to be used and enjoyed. Now he was rather glad of them.

  "She is a tasty piece, I will grant you that." Gibson heard Amy, as well as Thea and Marcus gasp in disbelief, and he prayed that when this was over, he would be given a chance to explain before being tossed out squarely on his arse. He needed to make them understand that he was playing a role once more, wearing a different mask. It was simply one they had never seen before, the one he had refused to accept when his father had practically foisted it on him.

  In this moment, Gibson was playing at being his father, adopting the late viscount's manners and speech, as well as his disgusting beliefs. Gibson couldn't imagine a worse fate for himself. Still, it had to be done.

  "Had her often then, did you?" Michaels, in his slowly growing madness, seemed to want to chat with Gibson, a man he had just threatened to murder not moments before, over Amy's supposed lack of virtue. That was fine with the doctor. It would give the earl time to execute whatever plot he was devising.

  "More than a few times, my good man." Gibson raised a singular eyebrow. "But a gentleman never tells tales." He did his best to keep up the façade of being an oily, overly-indulged man of the world with no morals. Whenever he felt himself falter, even a little, he remembered his father, disgusting pig that Harrison Blackwell had been.

  "You will not be displeased with her, I'd wager." Then Gibson cocked that same eyebrow a little bit higher. "But then, isn't that what men like us do? Take from those with far more than they deserve in order to satisfy our own needs?"

  He glanced at Amy again and saw the hurt shining in her eyes. What he wouldn't give to wipe it away in that very moment, but he needed to be strong. For her. "Pity about your brother, Overton. I am sorry. I have no doubt the letter is true. She was probably a saucy little minx in her youth, I'd wager." Then he prayed that he wouldn't be struck dead by divine lightning for lying, if such a thing was even possible. His mother, God rest her soul, had frequently assured him that it was.

  Michaels eyed Gibson for a moment as if gauging his sincerity before smiling once more. "Ah, so that is why you chose to escort the chit, wasn't it? You wanted to sample the goods for yourself." Then the steward glanced over at Amy who was still locked to his side and her wrist held tightly in his grasp, lust clearly written all over his face. "I'll have my turn soon enough."

  Gibson drew in a sharp breath, murder bubbling in his heart, and was only just barely able to hold his anger in check. Overton might have missed the momentary crack in the doctor's disgusting façade, but Marcus saw it. And then he smiled at Gibson in recognition. Just then, Gibson knew that he had a friend in the room once more, and that the viscount understood that it was all an act.

  "You will not be disappointed." Gibson moved closer to the couple, trying to maneuver himself as near to Amy as he possibly could without arousing Overton's suspicions. He had no idea where the earl was, but he prayed the older man hurried up and executed whatever he was planning. Gibson wasn't certain how much longer he could delay Overton. Or keep up the charade of being a dissolute, female-abusing rake. It wasn't him, and even though he was attempting to save Amy's life, the illusion made him chafe more than a little.

  He could also tell that every word he spoke sliced at Amy like a knife, wounding her deeply. She was so intent on sacrificing herself that her normal, rational way of thinking had fled. She didn't hear the contempt Gibson's his voice as he spoke to Michaels or notice the looks that passed between him and Marcus, who had long since guessed the ruse. All she heard were the words, each one like a blow. He was hurting her, but there could be no other way. Not if he wanted her to live.

  Then, he was next to her, able to feel the heat radiating from her body, and pleased to note that Michaels' gun was no
w aiming directly at the floor. Gibson reached down and raised Amy's chin with his finger so that she might meet his eyes. In them, he prayed that she would be able to discern for herself that every word he spoke was a lie. Except for these next ones, for they would be the absolute truth. And she needed to hear them, whether she knew it or not. Before everything went to hell and what might be his last chance to reveal his true feelings to her was lost.

  Gibson swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving hers. "In fact, I would pay a hefty sum just for the pleasure of having her in my bed once more."

  "That good?" There was clearly doubt in Overton's mind about Amy's skills at bed sport.

  "That good," Gibson assured him, his eyes never leaving Amy's, and he prayed once more that she knew him well enough to see through his act.

  "Well, there's always at least one woman who can lead a man around by his cock. I am assuming that she is yours. We can make it work, however. If the price is right." Gibson could see the wheels turning in the steward's greedy mind, obviously trying to find a way to make some additional coin from Amy once he married her. "How much would you be willing to pay me? After all, if I'm going to sell my wife, I need to make certain that I'm getting something adequate in return." By this time, Overton had relaxed his grip on Amy and even turned away from her a bit, as if he wanted to begin pacing, though thought of more money obviously more enticing to him than she was.

  Gibson was silent for a moment, as if he was pondering the question. "All that I own," he finally replied quietly. For one moment, the mask slipped away, and he was speaking only to Amy and not the madman at her side. "I would give everything that I own to have her for mine. Even my life." Then he winced, knowing that he had over-played his hand. He had made a grave mistake and now someone, likely Amy, would pay. It was impossible for Overton to have missed that exchange and the sincerity in Gibson's tone.