Far Beyond Scandalous (6 page)

"Very good, my
lady."
 
He bowed again slightly and
began backing out of the room.
 
"Please ring if you need anything else."

When he was gone, Amy turned around
to find Gibson watching her through hooded eyes.
 
Was that displeasure she saw in his golden gaze or was it her
imagination?
 
Or was it, dare she hope,
anger at the thought of her marrying another?

"So are congratulations soon
to be in order?"
 
Gibson was not
about to allow Amy to see the jealousy that snaked through him and gnawed at
his gut.
 
Not only was it not proper,
but it ate at the secret place inside of him that he did his best to keep
hidden from the world.
 
Amy
included.
 

Damn it, he should have been a
viscount.
 
He should have had the right
to court her, to be one of her suitors, and vie for the honor of taking her
hand in marriage.
 
And he gathered, from
Towson at least, that marriage was exactly what Amy was seeking this season.

Therefore, he was more than a
little shocked when she snorted in disgust.
 
"Hardly."
 
Then she
rolled her eyes, reminding him of the woman he had glimpsed in the summerhouse,
and not the overly cool and polite one he had seen at the museum ball earlier in
the season.
 
Perhaps that Amy, the one
he held safely in his heart, still existed after all.
 
"No, my mother, well, both of my parents really, are under
the illusion that I shall secure a husband by the end of this season.
 
It will not happen.
 
Not now and not ever."
 

She said the last few words with so
much force that Gibson took a few steps backwards.
 
He had no idea what to say, really.
 
He had always assumed that one day, Amy would marry, and that she
was merely taking her time in selecting a proper suitor.
 
She was, after all, distantly in line for
the throne, and did need to be choosy when selecting a mate.
 
Perhaps that was not the case at all.

"I'm sorry," he finally
offered, uncertain of what else to say.

With a sigh of her own, she rose
and began to pace the room, her nervous energy over her mother's condition
needing to find an outlet somewhere.
 
"Please don't apologize.
 
It
is not your fault."
 

Though in a way, it was.
 
Amy might have been willing to do as her
parents so obviously wanted this season if not for that magnificent day the
previous August.
 
After that, no man
would ever compare to the one standing before her now.
 
"And the issue of marriage is, as my
mother said earlier this evening regarding another matter, a discussion for
another time.
 
For now, we must deal
with her health.
 
That is of the utmost
importance."

"And the earldom.
 
Let us not forget that," Gibson
reminded her, finally crossing the room to grasp her arms gently, stilling
her.
 
Her pacing was making him nervous,
and he was afraid that she might wear a hole in the carpet if she
continued.
 
Not to mention that he was
growing increasingly uneasy about the unsettled state of affairs between
them.
 
He wanted to know precisely where
they stood with each other, but could not ask.
 
It was not his place, nor the right time, even though it was an immense
distraction for him.
 
Instead, he
concentrated on what he could control.

"I am afraid that your
father's affairs cannot be ignored while your mother recovers.
 
The household and the estates require daily
management."
 
Gibson did not want
to frighten her, but she did need to know what she was facing.
 
The task of running an earldom was a
daunting one.
 
"I know the effort
it takes.
 
I was trained for that kind
of life, after all."

In that moment, Amy wanted to ask
him so many questions about his life, about his family, and what had occurred
to put him on the path he was currently traveling through life.
 
She wanted to know if he was angry with her
for her cold treatment of him earlier in the season, or if he still cared for
her at all.
 
But it was not her place,
nor was it the time.

Instead of questioning him further,
she pulled away and crossed the room to stand in front of the window
overlooking the side garden.
 
It was
lovely in the darkness, the light from the house casting gentle shadows over
the early blooms, the moon adding its own slivery glow.
 
A lover's garden, one she might have shared
with Gibson had things been different.

We can't live on 'what if-s.'
 
His words from that day still echoed through
her mind.
 
With a sigh, she braced
herself, knowing that she had to move forward and get down to business.
 
No more mooning over Gibson.

"What do I do?"
 
Amy hated to sound so uneducated, but her
mother had been very busy as of late, and while her duties were not precisely a
secret, she also hadn't been sharing many secrets with her daughter
either.
 
Including the information that
Thea was managing the family estates as well.

"You must run them in your
mother's place if necessary."
 
Gibson
hadn't meant to follow Amy across the room, but he found that he could not stay
away from her either.
 
His hands longed
to reach out and touch her, offer her comfort, but somehow, he managed to keep
himself in check.
 
Instead, he merely
stared at her reflection in the wavy, bubbled glass, and decided that he had
never seen a more beautiful creature in all of his life.
 
"There is no one else.
 
Is there?"

"Not that I am aware
of."
 
If there was someone else,
Amy did not know about them.
 
"She
meets with no one that I am not already acquainted with, and Towson has no
reason to lie.
 
No, I am confident that
there was no one else helping her."

Gibson considered that for a
moment, more than a little appalled at the situation, though he would never
tell Amy such a thing.
 
"I
see.
 
And what if she became
incapacitated?
 
Do you suspect that
there were any allowances made for that, for I assure you, your mother will not
be able to attend to her regular duties for some time."
 

When Amy didn't respond immediately,
he had his answer.
 
"If there is no
one, then it must be you."

Real fear gripped Amy in that
moment, and she fought to push it back.
 
Her mother was ill.
 
Very ill,
perhaps even likely to die if she continued with her previously busy schedule.
 
However, Amy herself had no idea what to do
next.
 
She hadn't been trained to run
any of this.
 
She wasn't the earl.
 
She was simply a woman who had been taught
to manage a household with the help of an immense staff.
 

Then she paused and considered the
current situation from another vantage point.
 
Somehow, despite everything, including a lack of proper training, her
mother had known what to do.
 
As far as
Amy knew, Thea's work had been successful.
 
Therefore, it could be done.

"As far as I know, my father
had expected to return by now.
 
He's
been gone for nearly a month, far longer than any of his other trips for the
crown have been."
 
Amy nibbled on
the edge of her thumb in worry.
 
"So, no, I do not think he made any other arrangements.
 
If he had, Towson would have known about
them.
 
This time was unusual, I think,
in many ways.
 
Other times that my
father has been gone, we would have had a letter by now, though, again, if we
have received one, I was not informed of it's arrival."

Nodding, Gibson gestured to the sofa,
indicting that she should sit, but she ignored him and resumed her pacing.
 
Fine.
 
Then he would converse with her while she was in flight.
 
"How much do you know about any of
this?"
 
He waved his hand in the
air to indicate that he was talking about more than just the residence.
 
"Cheltenham House?
 
Heatherton Abby?"
 
He was, of course, referring to the family's
country seat.
 
"Any of the estate's
holdings or responsibilities?"

"Not much," she admitted,
slowing her pace before coming to a stop in front of the window once more.
 
She was more than a little bit embarrassed
to allow Gibson to glimpse how truly uneducated she was, especially in
comparison to him.
 
"Michaels is my
father's steward, but I suppose he has been taking direction from my mother for
the last few weeks.
 
I have seen him
here at the house daily, but thought little of it since he visits every day
when my father is in residence as well."
 

Her father.
 
Amy had not truly considered how he would
feel when he learned of his wife's illness.
 
William Cheltenham would be alarmed if he knew of the situation facing
Amy.
 
If she did not get word to him,
how would he know that he was needed at home?
 
Or was he even now on his way back from Scotland, his job
completed?
 
Amy wanted to scream at her
own ignorance.
 
What did she know?
 
Nothing, it seemed.
 
"My father.
 
He obviously does not know what has happened or how ill my mother
is.
 
How do I reach him?
 
What do I tell him?
 
How do I even find him?"
 

She whirled around and paced back
to the couch before sinking down onto the plush fabric once again.
 
Reaching out, she gripped Gibson's hands
tightly, surprising him, her touch doing things to his insides that it took all
of his strength of will to ignore.
 
He
could see the panic rising in her eyes, the rapid beat of her pulse in her
throat.
 

"You are my friend, and I have
no one else.
 
Please.
 
Tell me what to do, because I truly do not
know where to begin."
 
Amy gave
another snort of disgust, and Gibson began to see that her mask of perfection
was just that.
 
A mask.
 
"Earlier tonight, I was boasting to my
mother about how much I knew regarding the world, how smart I was, and how I
needed more freedom to make my own choices.
 
It was truly foolish of me to think that I even know the tiniest bit about
life, when in truth, I do not know anything."

"You know more than you
think.
 
That you are clever enough to
realize you need help is a sign of great insight on your part.
 
Do not discount that."

Amy was drowning in fear and
panic.
 
Gibson could see it so very
clearly.
 
Despite how she might or might
not feel about him, he could not allow her to suffer through this alone.
 
There was only one response he could give,
only one his heart would allow him to make.
 
"I will help you as best I can.
 
Do not worry.
 
We will get a
message to your father, and he will help us set things right."
 

Gibson prayed that his voice held
the right note of strength and decision.
 
He needed to be strong for her, not uncertain about once more fitting
into the world of the aristocracy, even if it was only on a temporary basis.

He might be uncomfortable with the
plan he had just concocted, but he would follow through with it.
 
For her.
 
And only her.

"But what do I
do
?"
 
The note of panic in Amy's voice was clear.

Gibson's heart broke as he watched
Amy rise and whirl away from him once more, her heart-felt plea slicing through
him like a knife.
 
She continued to
pace, almost frantic now, and he wished that he had the right to offer her
comfort, but he did not.
 
One stolen
afternoon did not permit him the kinds of liberties he longed for.
 
Still, when he rose as well and offered her
his ungloved hand as a gesture of strength, she grasped it as if it were a
lifeline, finally coming to rest in front of him.

At the slide of Gibson's hand against
hers, Amy felt her pulse quicken, but she did her best to try to force herself
to be calm.
 
Already her heart was
beating far too fast, and she wanted nothing more than to weep, but she would
not.
 
More than that, she wanted to
fling herself into Gibson's arms for comfort, but he would probably not allow
it.
 
Nor should she even consider
it.
 
Here in London, there were
rules.
 
There were people watching.
 
It wasn't like the seclusion of Seldon
Park.
 
But oh, how she wished it was.