Far Beyond Scandalous (22 page)

"This is one of the oldest
parts of the park," Amy said as she led him toward an old bench.
 
"It was abandoned years ago when it
fell out of fashion because it is too steep for most women to
navigate."
 
She gestured to where
the bank sloped sharply down to the water.
 
"I found it when I was a child, playing here with Marcus."
 
She tried not to sound wistful, but she was
unable to help herself.
 
She missed her
bother desperately and wanted him home, no matter his condition.
 

Amy had to admit that she was also
grateful for the seclusion of the older area, as, from the moment they had
entered the park, she had felt as if someone was watching her.
 
It was chilling.
 
Not that she would say as much to Gibson.
 
She could keep secrets, too.

"You will have those times
again," Gibson assured her, placing a comforting hand on her
shoulder.
 
"Perhaps not as you did
as children, but there are other adventures awaiting you.
 
When he returns."
 
He did not mention that it was possible that
Marcus would never return.
 
Today was
not the time for that particular discussion.

Straightening her shoulders, Amy
pulled away from Gibson, knowing that if they touched any longer, she would
lose herself in him far too easily.
 
"Perhaps.
 
But for the
moment, we must instead focus on my visit from Miss Worth this morning.
 
You said you saw her last night."

With a sigh, Gibson sank down onto
the old bench, careful to keep to the rotting part, leaving the slightly sturdier
portion for Amy.
 
She was particularly
lovely today in a pale, butter-yellow dress of sprigged muslin, all ribbons and
bows with a matching bonnet, and he did not want to soil her gown.
 
Despite its simplicity, he suspected it was
probably a Madame LaVallier creation and therefore, indecently expensive.

"I did."
 
How did he explain this to her?
 
Then again, this was Amy.
 
She would probably not be scandalized by the
tale.
 
"You know that I am under
retainer to Prinny, correct?" Amy inclined her head, indicating that she
knew and understood his point.
 
"Therefore, when he summons me, usually by way of a messenger, I am
compelled to go wherever he wishes.
 
I
have no choice in the matter.
 
That was
the case last night."

"And?"
 
She raised her eyebrow, waiting.
 
Her anger had cooled, but she would not
forget about the Runner he had hired.
 
That issue still lay between them, if nothing else.

"And Lord Drake was, to put it
rather bluntly, drunk.
 
Not merely in
his cups or slightly foxed, but falling down, disgustingly intoxicated.
 
I do not think Prinny would have even
intervened at all, but Faraday was there as well, and he and his father are
favorites at Carlton House.
 
If Drake was
treated by another physician, and since the two whelps are thick as thieves, word
might spread that the Danvers heir was someplace he should not have been.
 
And everyone at the hell knew it."

Amy snorted in disgust, imagining
how difficult the entire situation must have been for Gibson.
 
"And of course, we do not want the
names of respectable society dragged through the mud now, do we?"
 
At the moment, she knew she should still be
furious with Gibson, but found her anger waning by the moment.
 
Instead, it was being redirected towards
society as a whole - including those who would keep her and Gibson apart.
 
He - and she by default - should not have to
suffer so much for the sins of his father.
 
Not when the likes of Drake and Faraday could do as they pleased without
consequence.

Gibson laced his fingers through
Amy's, stroking her palm with his thumb.
 
He should not touch her.
 
He
should stay away from her, but he could not help himself.
 
"As I was treating Drake, he was
ranting to all who would listen about how he intended to trap you into
marriage.
 
He said you had a secret, and
that he would discover what it was.
 
He
claimed that he would bring you to your knees and humble you.
 
He was boasting to all, making a spectacle
of himself.
 
When he finally realized
that
I
was the man treating him, well, the situation became worse.
 
And ugly."

"How ugly?"
 
Amy both wanted to know and yet didn't at
the same time.
 
She also wanted to
comfort Gibson, yet that, too, would go against the very decision she had made
that morning.

For his part, Gibson didn't want to
admit the details - that Drake had spit on him and called him ugly, vile names,
ones unfit for ladies ears.
 
Drake had
also sworn that Gibson would never be accepted back into polite society.
 
It was then that Gibson had prevailed upon
Faraday to remove Miss Worth from the scene before it became any worse.
 
Apparently it had not been soon enough.
 
Letitia had, evidently, overheard the worst,
probably including the insults flung at Gibson, reminding him that he could
never win Amy's hand, no matter how much he might wish it.

"It was vile," he finally
said rather stiffly.
 
"And no, I
will not repeat it."

She seemed to ponder that for a
moment.
 
If she was going to ask her own
question now was the time, she supposed.
 
"And regarding the Runner you hired?
 
For I am quite certain that Letitia was not merely concocting a
story," Amy finally asked.
 
After
all, it was the source of her anger that morning, an anger that, here in the
quiet peace of the park, seemed to have disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"The directive from your
father practically forcing you to remain out in society, your mother's constant
insistence that you marry this season," Gibson ticked off the reasons on
his fingers.
 
"Those are not normal
directives, Amy, and, in your heart, you must know that."

Unable to meet his eyes, she looked
away, ashamed of herself for doubting him.
 
She knew better.
 
Rather, her
heart did anyway.
 
She was merely
overset by everything and not thinking clearly.
 
"I do."

"And though I have never
pressed you, I am fairly certain that, given all we have shared, you would have
told me the reason for those directives already.
 
Assuming, of course, that you either knew or were inclined to do
so.
 
You told me in the beginning that
you did not know the reason, and I believed you.
 
I still do."
 
Gibson
took her hand and gripped it tightly.
 
Something had changed yet again between them since the previous
evening.
 
He could feel it in his
gut.
 
Though where it left them, he did
not know.

For once, however, he hoped that
the change might be progress towards ending this constant push and pull of
attraction that they had been engaged in for nearly a year now.
 
"Yet, I have been charged with
escorting you, some might say even protecting you, until your father or Marcus
returns.
 
I made a vow that until either
event occurred, I would keep you safe.
 
Yet I cannot do that if I do not have all of the information, and so
much seems to depend on that little scrap of paper.
 
So I hired a Runner to see if he could find out the truth since
there was no other information forthcoming."

Amy shrugged, unable to provide
Gibson with the answers he both needed and wanted.
 
"I have told you all that I know.
 
I swear."
 
Perhaps
now was the proper time to mention her old tutor, but to what end?
 
The man was dead and no longer relevant to
anything.
 
It would only upset Gibson
further.

"Then why?" he asked, his
own exasperation showing.
 
"Why the
directives?
 
Why the conditions?"

"I do not know!"
 
Amy hissed in frustration, her anger
resurfacing a bit.
 
"Truly, I do
not.
 
It makes no sense, as I am not
presently being courted, Drake's unwelcome suit not withstanding.
 
In fact, I had planned never to marry.
 
Not until last summer!
 
Then, after that day, I knew for certain
that I could never marry, not for love anyway.
 
For there is only one man I will ever care for, and I believe that you
know that."

Her words hit Gibson like a punch
to the stomach.
 
"Oh, Amy.
 
You cannot mean that.
 
You are a young and vibrant woman.
 
You must plan to marry eventually."

Shaking her head, she rose from the
bench and walked slowly to the edge of the water, the sunlight, which was
dimmed by London's smoke-clouded skies, softly dappling the water and making
her appear almost like a watercolor in reflection.
 
"In that one afternoon, Gibbs, I found greater joy than I
have ever truly known.
 
No man has ever
set me afire the way you did.
 
No man
ever saw me for who I truly am the way you do.
 
And that is what I want from a marriage.
 
I want the fire and passion.
 
Not the quiet needlework and matronly position that I am told I should
want.
 
I want the one thing The Paragon
is not supposed to crave.
 
I want
love.
 
And you know that I cannot hope
to experience that rarest of emotions with anyone other than you."

"Amy."
 
His heart in his throat, Gibson did not know
what to say.
 
"I'm sorry.
 
I did not mean for this to happen."

Tears pricked her eyes and she
turned away.
 
She hated being such a
watering pot.
 
"I trust you with
everything, Gibbs.
 
I trust you with my
very body.
 
That was why I was so hurt
by Letitia's news this morning.
 
For all
that we have shared, you did not think enough of me to tell me."

"I did not want to worry you,
sweeting."
 
It was the only
explanation he could offer, even though it sounded pitiful to his own
ears.
 
"My gut tells me that if these
odd directives have been in place for so long, they are there for a reason and
probably not a very good one.
 
There is
some kind of threat lurking about, Amy, whether you know what it is or not.
 
And until
I
know what it is, I cannot
protect you the way I swore I would.
 
That is why I hired the Runner.
 
No other reason.
 
I
promise."

"But I don't know anything
more than what I have told you."
 
Well, she did, in a way, but she was certain that was not relevant.
 
After all this time, it could not be.
 
Her father had promised her thus.

Tired.
 
She was so very tired.
 
So
emotional, as well, which was unlike her.
 
She was never a watering pot.
 
She needed to be strong.
 
She
needed to inform Gibson that they should stick to friendship, that it was best
for both of them.

He should let her go, find another
woman to care for, and, in time, love.

Then, the first of the tears rolled
down her cheeks, and Amy swiped at them angrily.
 
Amy did not want Gibson to see her cry.
 
She needed to prove that she was strong and resourceful.
 
Except that at the moment, she wanted
nothing more than to burrow herself in his embrace, her earlier anger
completely gone and her good intentions about staying away from him - for both
of their sakes - fading quickly.
 
Here
in the old, secluded section of the park, what could it hurt?
 
Just this one last time?
 
No one would know.

"Shush, my love," Gibson
whispered, gathering her into his arms.
 
"All will be well.
 
I
promise you."

"But what if you are
right?" she sniffed into his jacket, hating how weak and confused she
sounded.
 
"What if there is a
danger to me out there that I know nothing about?
 
You are right when you say those directives make no sense.
 
I just had not thought of them in that
way."
 
So much for her belief that
she was now an adult.
 
There was still
much to learn, it seemed.
 
Drat it all.

Gibson pulled Amy closer, knowing
he shouldn't, but unable to resist.
 
"And I did see them thus because that is my nature.
 
It is a hard lesson to learn, but one I
learned well.
 
Odd documents hide secrets.
 
It was those very kinds of documents that
cost my father, and my family, everything."