Far Beyond Scandalous Read online

  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.

  Chapter One

  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.

  For the last several years, Amy had felt as if she was living a life removed from reality. She was treated as a lady beyond reproach, viewed as a diamond of the first water, pure and innocent, so far above scandal and so perfect in manners, that no other debutant could ever compare. She was treated by most everyone as though she was made of spun sugar, and, like her brother before her, might break if someone pushed her too hard. So they were careful with her, polite and distant, but never showing any real emotion. No passion. No fire. It was as if she lived in a glass case, just a pretty ornament watching the world pass her by but never truly being a part of it.

  Those experiences had made her numb to everyone and everything. Oh, she put on a good act, certainly, but beneath the glittering exterior, there was nothing. It was as if Amy, the woman, was ceasing to exist in many ways, slipping away slowly. She feared that if things did not change now, they never would. Then again, what did it matter? No one saw beneath the shiny, beautiful surface anyway. No one had ever dared to pull away her mask of perfection to see what lay beneath.

  Except Gibson. From the first, he had viewed her as a woman, a creature to be desired and lusted after, and not a false idol. He treated her as if she had a mind of her own and thoughts in her head rather than fluff. He saw her as whole, not some fragile creature that needed to be protected. In one afternoon, he had shown her a life filled with color and light, not the drab, dreary existence she had been leading, and it chaffed beyond measure that she had pretend that it had never happened.

  "I understand your feelings." Thea broke into her daughter's thoughts. "Amy, I know that you believe that I do not, about so many things, including those topics we do not discuss, but I understand more than you think. In some ways, though I do not speak of it, I have been where you are." There was a wealth of pain in her mother's voice, pain that cut Amy deeply for she felt it herself.

  "I'm sorry." Amy knew she owned her mother another, more sincere apology. Really, she owed her mother a great deal more, but that would have to suffice for now. "I merely wish that there was more we could do for those like Marcus, perhaps even through the society. I miss him and wish that he could come home."

  Tears pricked Thea's eyes and she swiped at them delicately. "As do I, my darling. As do I."

  The subject of medical advancement was one that was dear to all of the Cheltenhams. Amy's brother, Marcus, had been partly blinded by a fever several years before and had lain at death's door, hovering between life and the ever-after for many months, constantly being bled by unscrupulous physicians, and suffering all other manner of inhumane cruelty in the name of "curing" him. Even Amy, as unschooled as she had been in the ways of medicine at the time, had known that the various methods of treatment the doctors were inflicting on her brother were doing him more harm than good, slowly draining the life from his already weakened body.

  Then, Dr. Hastings had come knocking at the door of the Cheltenham's Mayfair townhouse, offering the family new medical advances in the hopes of saving Marcus' life. Advances made possible through support from Ladies' Society for the Advancement of Medicine, an organization founded by Lady Georgina's grandmother many years before.

  Using those new techniques, Hastings had been able to end Marcus' constantly recurring fever, though his sight was indeed partially lost and unlikely to completely return. Still, the very life of the heir to the Cheltenham earldom had been saved, and for that, Amy's family was extremely grateful. So grateful that both Amy and her mother had begun to volunteer for the Society, only to learn that it was being run by one of the most uneducated and backwards women they had ever met. One that also wasn't likely to give up control any time soon. How Hastings had managed to make the advances he had thus far was beyond both Theodosia and Amy.

  It further infuriated Amy that money collected for medical research was spent on tea and garden parties, as well as sending flowers to the ill and infirm, rather than given to doctors like Hastings, and yes, Gibson, who had joined Hastings' practice only two years ago. With that kind of coin at their disposal, the physicians might be able to further their knowledge about healing the human body. And tonight, Amy was tried of pretending it didn't matter.

  She was tired of everything, really, but this was a place where she could start to make some changes, however small.

  "Then let us do something, Mama. Let us start a new society." Amy made certain to say the words softly and with the type of ladylike restraint The Paragon was noted for. She did not want to upset her mother any further, even though the idea itself might cause Thea distress anyway.
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  It was, of course, a radical idea, but Amy felt the burning desire to do something to make a difference. She needed to change the course of her life, and this might be the only option open to her. That fire to bring about change had been ignited when Marcus' life had been saved three years ago, but it had only grown after meeting Gibson. In fact, it had grown far more than she could ever admit to her mother.

  "Patience, my daughter." Thea reached over and patted Amy's hand, seemingly satisfied that her daughter's temper was once more in check. It wasn't lost on Amy that her mother's hand shook slightly, and there were lines around her eyes that Amy did not think had been there before. "Tonight is not the night for this discussion. I do not have the will or the strength to fight you on this. I need to rest first, recoup my strength, which has been lacking as of late."

  Amy wanted to protest, but seeing her daughter begin to speak, Thea quickly continued. "We will discuss this later and see if there is anything to be done, or if we can affect change within the current society. In fact, there are many topics that we must discuss, I believe, including your current lack of marital prospects. But that is not for now. They are for later, after your father returns."

  Properly chastised Amy could only nod, knowing that her mother was correct, much of the fire leaving her. "Of course, Mama. It was foolish of me to suggest otherwise." Too late she remembered how tired her mother had appeared the last few weeks, as if she was growing old before Amy's eyes, something Amy did her best to try to ignore.

  Thea's gaze searched Amy's face. "I know that you feel constrained, my daughter, and while I can understand your position, there is not much I am able to do without your father present. I know that you have tended to flout convention at times when the rules were irrational, and I encouraged you in that, often times to his dismay. Perhaps I should not have."