Far Beyond Scandalous: Tales From Seldon Park, #2

By Bethany M. Sefchick

Dubbed "The Paragon of The Ton," Lady Amy Cheltenham appears to have everything a young lady of consequence could wish for - a loving family, cool English beauty, and a place in society to be envied.  However, the one thing she lacks is the very thing she desires most - the heart of the only man she has ever loved.

The son of a traitor, Dr. Gibson Blackwell has somehow managed to build a respectable life and a reputation for himself, even after the loss of his family's title.  Unfortunately, he has also done the one thing that he knows he should not - fall in love with a woman he can never hope to have.  At least not without creating a scandal that is far beyond anything that London has ever known.

Is love enough to conquer all that lies between Amy and Gibson, or are they destined to remain apart forever, nurturing a love that is far beyond scandalous?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bethany M. Sefchick
• Release date: Aug 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781386700111

Bethany M. Sefchick

Making her home in the mountains of central Pennsylvania, Bethany Sefchick lives with her husband, Ed, and a plethora of Betta fish that she’s constantly finding new ways to entertain. In addition to writing, Bethany owns a jewelry company, Easily Distracted Designs. It should be noted that the owner of the titular Selon Park - one Lord Nicholas Rosemont, the Duke of Candlewood, a.k.a. "The Bloody Duke" - first appeared in her mind when she was eighteen years old and had no idea what to make of him, or of his slightly snarky smile.  She has been attempting to dislodge him ever since - with absolutely no success. When not penning romance novels or creating sparkly treasures, she enjoys cooking, scrapbooking, and lavishing attention on any stray cats who happen to be hanging around. She always enjoys hearing from her fans at: [e-mail]

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Prologue

Late August, 1818

Seldon Park 

Sussex

We should return to the house.  One of us will be missed soon.  If we are not already.  Those were the last words Dr. Gibson Blackwell wanted to say at that precise moment, but he knew that he must.  One of them had to do the proper thing.  The right thing, as it were.  Much as he didn't want to, for he was quite content exactly where he was.  At the moment, he also wished he could remain precisely where he was forever.  However wishes, more often than not, did not come true.  Especially for him.

Most of the furniture scattered around them was still draped with dust cloths, save for the one lounging couch that he had uncovered for their use.  The room was cast mostly in thick, inky shadows, but the partially open door where they had snuck in still allowed enough light through for them to see to maneuver.  If they were included to go anywhere.  Which they weren't.  At least not yet.  Well, he wasn't anyway.  He was not as certain about Amy, though she did seem rather content at the moment.

The summerhouse had only recently been closed, so there was no thick layer of dust coating everything as there would have been in the spring, but the air still carried a stale quality that only added to the sensation of being ensconced in their own little hideaway.  All the place needed was a fire in the central fireplace and the entire setting would have been quite cozy indeed.

The driving rain was easing now, he noted absently, and eventually someone would discover that both he and Lady Amy were missing from the house party.  Gibson had an excuse for his absence, of course.  Earlier in the day, he had embarked upon a trip into the closest village to arrange for Lord Berkshire's body to be transported back to his ancestral home at Wellstone Abby for a proper burial.  It was a sad thing that the now-former earl had died, especially only days after celebrating such a joyous occasion.  The wedding of Lord Benjamin Sinclair, the Duke of Radcliffe, to Lady Julia Rosemont had been a happy time for all - even for Berkshire and his much younger, and somewhat distant, wife. 

However, that was the way life sought to deal the cards sometimes.  Gibson was simply thankful that he had been present to help ease everyone through the details of Berkshire's passing, including arranging for proper transport of the body.

The trip to the village had taken far longer than anticipated and his prolonged absence could, quite reasonably, now be blamed on the rain.  No one would question it.  Lady Amy had no such excuse.  Though he also wasn't certain that anyone even knew she was missing.  Yet.

No one will care, Gibson, Amy sighed, rolling over onto her stomach, and he couldn't help but gaze at the lovely sight of her naked body sprawled on the oversized chaise beside him.  He thought that he could spend hours learning the contours of her back alone.  Most of the guests have already departed.  Then she reached up and stroked his chest with her soft, delicate fingers, making him shiver with longing.  Those that have not will be engaged elsewhere on such a dreary day.  As are we.  She giggled a little, something very much unlike her.  And I am having the most wonderful time.

As am I, sweeting.  As am I.  Gibson didn't know if he had ever spoken truer words in his life.

Then let us linger a bit longer.  Please.  She looked up towards the roof of the summerhouse where they had both taken refuge from the sudden downpour.  He was thankful that the house had been closed up well enough for the season so that the sides were sealed, but the job not so thoroughly complete that it had been impossible to get inside.   We have but this one afternoon.  Let us make the most of it. 

Still, we should not linger.  Gibson was a bit older than Amy, not to mention that he was a gentleman - or had been born one anyway.  He had been trained from the cradle to treat women with respect.  Just because he was in reduced circumstances now didn't mean that he could so easily forget the lessons of his past.  It is not right or proper.  Should your family discover what has transpired, it would mean ruin - for both of us.  I will not allow harm to come to you because of me.

Amy reached out and traced a single finger along the strong line of his jaw.  They will not know.  A look of sadness crept into her eyes, and for a moment, he could tell she was not in the summerhouse with him but elsewhere, perhaps even in the past.  For once, Gibson, I wish to do as I please.  And what would please me is to remain here with you.

He frowned.  Even if there are consequences to those actions?  He could not believe that she would willingly be this foolish.  She might be considered on the shelf by some, but she was still relatively young yet.  She might yet marry, perhaps even this season.  And if there was a child as a result of anything they did this very afternoon?  Gibson preferred not to think of how that kind of scandal could shred not only her reputation, but her family's as well.  Their blood link to the crown would only grant them so much forgiveness.

She lowered her eyes and then looked back up at him through thick, sooty lashes.  Even if there are consequences, she affirmed softly.  Then she sighed, and there was so much pain in that one sound that he wanted to draw her close and reassure her that all would be well.  Here, in this moment, I am merely another woman lying with a man she cares for.  I am not Lady Amy, the daughter of the Earl of Evanston, distantly in line for the throne, and considered to be the dowry prize of the season, like some brood mare at Tattersall's.  I am just me.

Rolling over onto her back and pulling the sheet with her to cover her breasts, Amy stared at the ceiling, a sense of melancholy creeping in to what was an otherwise perfect afternoon thus far.  You see me as I am, Gibbs.  You see the woman and not the false idol so many expect me to be.

I always have, pet.  In truth, she was so much more to him, but, at the heart of it all, she was simply Amy.  The woman he cared for more than any other.  She was a dream he could never possibly hope to attain.  Not forever anyway.  Yet, for the moment, she was here.  With him.  From that first moment we met in Lady Radcliffe's entrance hall, I have always seen you as a woman.

And you are one of the few.  Amy reached out to caress him again, her fingers tangling in the crisp hair of his chest.  So please, Gibbs, do not deny me this one afternoon.  Please?  For when we leave, I will have to be her again, and I will not be able to even see you, at least not without creating a scandal.  This moment is all we have.

He knew she spoke the truth.  From the moment he had pulled open the door of the summerhouse to shelter them from the drenching rain, he had known that this would be nothing more than a stolen moment of time.  I know.  It was all he could say.  Both of them were experienced enough in the ways of society to know the truth of their situation.

Then do not squander what little time we have remaining.  There was entreaty in Amy's gaze, and he found that he could not deny her anything, especially this.  Not when he longed for it as well.  I can think of so many other things that I would love to experience with you.

So could Gibson, were he being honest, but he had made a vow to both of them when he kissed her for the first time earlier that day.  He would give her a taste of the seductive passion she craved, but not everything she was asking for.  He could not take her maidenhead.  If he did, she would be ruined, and he would not do something so cruel to her.  Still, he had informed her as she'd wound her arms around his neck most delightfully, there were other things they could indulge in together.  Things that he had, in fact, dreamed about.  Often.  Repeatedly.  Some as recently as last night.  For if there was one thing that Gibson Blackwell did possess, it was an active and vivid imagination, at least where Lady Amy was concerned.

In fact, this afternoon had been nothing short of a fantasy for a man in Gibson's position.  As one of the most respected physicians in London, not to mention one of the Prince Regent's most trusted medical advisors, there were many doors that were open to him that were closed to others in the gray area occupied by those who lay between the working class and the nobility.  That his father had once been a viscount probably didn't hurt his standing either, but that had been long ago, so long that it was another lifetime as far as Gibson was concerned.

Still, Gibson was surprised that he had been invited to attend the wedding of Lady Julia Rosemont to Lord Benjamin Sinclair, the Duke of Radcliffe.  Simply because he had treated Lady Julia after she had been grazed by a bullet at a duel involving Radcliffe and his arch rival, the Marquess of Landover, Gibson hadn't presumed that he would be made part of Radcliffe's inner circle.  That would have been insane.  Yet, for some odd reason, Gibson had been openly welcomed, adding yet another layer of scandal to the already overly scandalous union between the duke and his lady love.

Gibson hadn't been surprised, however, to find that Lady Amy Cheltenham, daughter of the Earl of Evanston, was in attendance at the wedding house party as well.  Lady Amy and Lady Julia, the new Duchess of Radcliffe, had become fast friends during the end of the previous London season, so it stood to reason that Amy would be present to celebrate the wedding of her new friend to the man of her dreams.

What Gibson hadn't counted on was that Lady Amy would still be just as smitten with him as she had been the day they had first met in Lady Julia's entry hall.  Not that he was complaining.  He was still smitten as well.  Possibly more than smitten.  He also knew that their mutual attraction - for really, a man had to be blind not to notice Lady Amy's stunning beauty - would go precisely nowhere.  She was the daughter of an earl.  He was a physician, a man engaged in a form of trade, and, worse still, the son of man who had been stripped of his title, lands, and wealth by the crown.  It was the perfect recipe for heartache.

Except that the week leading up to the wedding of the duke and duchess hadn't felt like a heartache.  In fact, it had been simply wonderful.  He and Amy had danced and flirted, accidentally partnered for various events, and, in general, given Gibson a chance to live out his fantasy.  However, it had also served to remind him of all that he would never have, everything that was now denied to him because of his father's actions.  Much as he desired her, he would never have Lady Amy in his bed.  She would never be his wife.

Then, as he walked back from town, arrangements for the transport of the body finally made, it had started to rain.  And rain.  And rain some more.  In fact, by the time he crossed the elaborate stone bridge leading to Seldon Park's grounds, he was certain he'd never been as wet or as cold in his entire life.  He was also tired, the weight of his waterlogged clothes heavy and making his limbs stiff.  Then, Gibson had seen the summerhouse at the top of a small rise, its door visible from the road, and he had decided to take a chance and attempt to seek refuge inside.  It would be blessed relief to get out of the rain, if only for a little while.

It was on his way up the muddy path that he saw the flash of lavender-hued fabric through the trees and caught a glimpse of honey blonde hair.  He knew that it could be no one other than Lady Amy, for he was convinced he would know her presence even if he were struck blind in an instant.  Then, his mind turned to more practical concerns, such as what she was doing out in such nasty weather and why she was unchaperoned.

She met him near the top of the hill where the summerhouse overlooked a lake on the other side, her hair bedraggled and her thin, nearly transparent gown clinging to her lush curves, making him almost forget that, at his heart, he was a gentleman.  Almost.

They had tried several doors before finding one that allowed them entrance, and he had done his best to shut out the worst of the weather, thankful that the mustiness of the house had its own type of warmth since building a fire would have been impossible, he quickly discovered.

It was only when he turned around to see Amy standing there shivering, her lips tinged blue that true worry set in.  He knew he had to get her warm and the best way to do that was to strip them both out of their wet things, find a blanket and share the warmth of their bodies.  When he suggested it, he was afraid she might slap him for his impertinence.  If she had, he would have simply left her there and gone for help, or devised some other plan to keep her safe and healthy until the rain ceased.  Instead, she had simply turned and offered him her back, asking him to undo her buttons since there was no lady's maid present.

For Gibson, that had been both the best and worst moment of his life, reveling in the sheer pleasure of actually touching Lady Amy while silently berating himself for his impure thoughts, which, he was ashamed to admit, he had plenty of.  He was about to embark on the noble course of action and suggest that he find her a blanket, when she instead looked at him, her blue eyes dark and full of an emotion that he dared not guess at.

Please disrobe and keep me warm, she had asked softly, her normally soft, navy blue eyes now a stormy midnight hue.  I know that would be best for both of us, medically speaking.

There was no way he could refuse her.  He was not that strong, and, in that way, he shared many of his father's failings.  Some things were just too temping for Blackwell men to ignore or resist.  They all had their weaknesses.  His father's had been money and power.  Gibson's weakness was Lady Amy, particularly when she was nude before him.

What had started out as an attempt to protect her health quickly turned into something more.  When Amy had encircled his neck with her arms and kissed him hesitantly, God forgive him, but he had kissed her back, quickly escalating the kiss from something sweet and innocent to something bordering on hot and forbidden.

Gibson was afraid she would slap him for the liberties he was taking rather freely.  He did deserve it after all, taking advantage of an innocent, not to mention a woman of a higher class than he.  Instead, she'd wound her arms more securely around his neck and begged him for more, to teach her the ways of pleasure.  No matter how much he wanted her, he was not that much of a cad.  However, he also knew that he could give her a taste, a small sample of the things he wanted to do both to her and with her.  She hadn't been happy, but she had agreed.

For him, it was the most perfect moment of his life when she screamed his name as she found her release, her body shuddering as she rode wave after wave of pleasure.  Or he thought it was until she leaned over and took him in her mouth, returning the pleasure as best she could, even with her lack of skills.

Now, as they lay there in the gathering dark, he knew that they should return to the manor house, and, he at least, should make his apologies for his delay in returning.  After all, there was a dead body to attend to.  However, he could not make himself care overly much.  In this moment, all that mattered was Amy.  Still, they did have to leave.

You know that today was simply a moment out of time, he reminded her, stroking the soft, supple skin of her back and shoulders when she turned over in his embrace once more.  This cannot happen again, not when we are back among the other guests.  In fact, after we leave here, it would probably be best if we did not speak.  I cannot trust myself not to slip.  I cannot pretend not to still want you.

I know, she sighed, rolling over and baring her breasts to his gaze once more.  Nor can I trust myself, either.  Still, I hate that it must be that way between us.  If only...

Gibson held his finger to her lips so that she could not finish her sentence.  He knew what she was going to say - if only things were different.  But they were not, and would never be.  He had been born to be a viscount.  Now he was a physician.  Only the House of Lords or the Prince Regent himself could undo all of the damage his scoundrel of a father had wrought on the lives of everyone around him.  That was as unlikely to occur as it would be for Prinny to choose only one mistress.  It would simply never occur.

Life cannot be lived on 'if onlys,' sweeting.  You know that as well as I.  The truth was harsh, but Gibson knew it needed to be said.

Nodding in acceptance, Amy rose up onto her elbows and reached for him, her fingers threading through his thick, dark hair.  I know.  Honestly, I do.  In fact, I know it far better than you can ever realize.  But a few more moments will not harm anyone.  And if I do not experience these pleasures will you, Gibbs, then I will never experience them with anyone.

He wanted to correct her, to tell her that somewhere among the peers of London there was a man who could love her as she deserved to be loved and could give her everything that she desired.  He wanted to remind her that, no matter how they both felt in this moment, that man could not be him, much as he longed for it to be otherwise.  He was not worthy of her and never would be.  He might desire her.  He might even love her.  But he could not have her.  Not today, tomorrow, or any day after that.  Too much stood between them.

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