Far Beyond Scandalous (36 page)

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 now 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.

However, if the steward knew the truth
of those words, Gibson would never discover it.
 
For at the precise moment that the steward made to turn back to
his captive, a well-placed bullet, fired from a rifle held firmly by the Earl
of Evanston, pierced Overton's heart.

As the man fell to the carpet
gasping his last breath, Gibson did not turn to the man who, in any other
circumstance would have received immediate medical attention from the only
physician in the room.
 
Instead, he
pulled Amy to him and out of harm's way.
 
Then, in front of her entire family, heedless of being seen, he kissed
her as if his life depended on it.
 
For
now he knew that it did.

"That was a marvelous bit of
acting, Doctor.
 
Perhaps you should be
on the stage."
 
Gibson tried to
accept the compliment from the Earl of Evanston in the spirit in which it had
been given.
 
If only he knew what that
spirit was.

He settled for it being genuine,
given everything that had transpired the last few hours.
 
"Thank you, my lord."
 
He offered a bow in return.
 
"But I have a career that I enjoy.
 
To truth, another man would have done no
less.
 
All I wanted was to ensure your
daughter's safety."
 
Gibson stole a
glance to where Amy was seated with her mother, still shaking a bit from her
encounter with Overton.
 
"I could
not stand to see her harmed.
 
I would
give my life to keep her safe, as I think you already know."

"She
is
safe now,
thanks to you."
 
The Earl stroked
his beard, the one that Gibson had no doubt would be shaved off before the day
was finished, especially considering how unfashionable and thoroughly matted it
was.
 
"We are all in your
debt."

Gibson shook his head.
 
"You are not.
 
As I said, I..."

"Yes, I remember what you
said."
 
The earl eyed him carefully
for a moment.
 
"You would give your
life for her.
 
Do not think that I
missed that the first time.
 
Out of
everything that you said, that part was not a lie.
 
You care for her a great deal."

Around them, Bow Street Runners
moved quickly and efficiently, cleaning up the mess and taking notes.
 
There would be no inquest, of course.
 
The Earl of Evanston had shot a man trying
to harm his family, and in his own home, no less.
 
Gibson's presence would be noted, of course, but then, as the
physician attending the countess each morning, his presence in the home was
nothing unusual or out of the ordinary.
 
Most of the Runners acknowledged him with a small nod, indicating that
they, too, knew he was not truly part of their world.
 
Nor was he part of the noble class.
 
Not any longer.
 
He was
somewhere in the middle.
 
It was time to
stop pretending otherwise.

"I do.
 
I love her with all that I am."
 
Gibson was not about to lie regarding his
feelings for Amy.
 
Not again.
 
"But I also accept that much stands
between us.
 
She is of noble blood, a
member of society.
 
Not to mention
distantly in line for the throne.
 
For
all that I have pretended these last few weeks, I am not one of you and never
will be, despite the circumstances of my birth."

The earl seemed to consider
that.
 
"You were, though.
 
Once.
 
You were born to noble parents, just as my daughter was.
 
Do not discount your own bloodlines,
Doctor."
 
He paused and stroked his
beard for a moment.
 
"You could
have been again if you had chosen that path.
 
You had a favor to call in with Prinny, did you not?"

How much did this man know about
what went on at Carlton House, and what service exactly did he perform for the
crown?
 
Gibson wasn't certain that he
wanted to know.
 
"I did.
 
But the one thing I wanted, he could not
give.
 
It was not within his power.
 
So I did not ask."
 
His glance strayed to Amy once more.
 
"When I did ask for my favor, it was to
save her life.
 
That is, in the end, all
I could ever want - her continued health and happiness."

"Yet you did not confess your
love to her when you had the chance."

Gibson prayed that the earl was
referring to the moment immediately after Overton had been shot and Amy had
collapsed into his arms, huddling there while he stroked her hair and whispered
soft words of comfort.
 
They had stayed
like that for minutes and then longer, Amy clinging to Gibson as Prinny's
personal guard, followed closely by the Runners, had descended upon Cheltenham
House in a too-late rescue attempt.
 

It wasn't until statements needed
to be made that Amy had somehow managed to pry herself away from him and once
more adopt the "lady of the manor" mask that she used to protect
herself when she was feeling her most vulnerable.
 
Gibson knew her well enough to realize that the morning's events
had shaken her to her core, and it would be some time before she returned to her
old self.
 
If she ever did, for the
events of the day might well irrevocably change her.
 
Still, she was strong, stronger than any woman he had ever known,
and he had no doubt that she would not let this incident destroy her.

Finally, Gibson took one last look
at Amy before turning back to her father.
 
"I hurt her.
 
Badly.
 
In her mind, I meant everything that I said
back there when we were facing down Overton.
 
She does not know those words were all lies."
 
Most of those words had been lies,
anyway.
 
There was definite truth in
some of them.