Far Beyond Scandalous (18 page)

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, even 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.