Prologue
The sound of music drifted softly from the rotunda, blending with the hum of conversation and laughter that filled the summer evening air at Vauxhall Gardens. Jaclyn Thomas stood near the edge of the grand promenade, her gaze wandering over the crowd, enjoying the spectacle of fashion and refinement around her. Her strawberry blonde curls were neatly pinned in an elegant chignon and her gown was a light-green silk that brought out the color of her eyes. She looked like any other lady in attendance though she could not help fidgeting with her fan. She had been separated from her brother, the Earl of Oakley, and despite the lively nature of the evening, she couldn’t shake the discomfort of being alone in the crowd. Where the blazes was Barrett? She might very well strangle her brother when she found him.
She made her way toward the rotunda hoping to find her brother, Barrett there. How could he have wandered off and left her alone at Vauxhall? He was supposed to be her chaperone. If their father discovered that she had been alone for any length of time he would have a fit. It was not secret that Jaclyn could be a bit of a hellion, but even she knew better than to wander around Vauxhall on her own. She frowned and started to walk faster when she ran right into a hard wall—or rather, a man that was so solid he was like hitting one.
She glanced up into the dark, stormy gray eyes one of the most deliciously handsome men she had ever had the pleasure of gazing upon. He had broad shoulders that were heavily muscled—which she should not know, but she had accidentally run right into him. He dressed with an understated elegance, his clothes carefully tailored to fit his well-proportioned frame, but there was also an undeniable air of a man who could easily blend into the background when he wished—though his presence could never truly go unnoticed. It was his face that had her stunned stupid though. He had high chiseled cheekbones and full plump lips. He smiled at her then and she nearly fell into a heap at his feet. The man had dimples. Dimples! He was so sinfully gorgeous her heart had stopped working properly. It beat heavily inside her chest. She lifted her fan and started to wave it in front of her face. Surely her cheeks must be a brilliant red. Was she flushed? She felt flushed. Lord… she was a mess, and he hadn’t even said a word to her. “My apologies…” Jaclyn had no words. She had lost the ability to make even the smallest of polite conversation.
“I hope you are all right, my lady,” he said, his voice a deep baritone that resonated through her chest, sending flutters anew through her overtaxed heart.
Jaclyn’s breath caught slightly. This was a man of undeniable presence, one who seemed to draw attention simply by entering a room. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, his jaw sharp, and his eyes, though cold in their demeanor, held an unmistakable intensity. Who was this gentleman and what gave him that air of authority?
“No, my lord,” Jaclyn replied with a smile, her voice steady but her heart quickening more and more under his gaze. “I am only searching for my brother.”
“What is your brother’s name? Perhaps I am acquainted with him,” the gentleman asked. “If I might accompany you for a moment, I would be honored to ensure your safety in the meantime while you search.”
Before she could respond, a sudden commotion broke through the crowd. Another reveler, likely inebriated from too much arrack punch, stumbled toward her, his elbow knocking into her side and causing her to teeter dangerously. A gasp escaped her lips, but before she could regain her balance, the gentleman’s strong arms encircled her waist, steadying her with a swift and practiced motion.
The warmth of his chest pressed against her back as he held her, and for a moment, all else seemed to fade away. She could feel the pulse of his heartbeat, strong and steady, just as his grip around her waist was unyielding. Jaclyn’s heart skipped a beat or perhaps it stopped beating altogether—she could not be certain. All she seemed aware of was him... She didn’t dare look up at the gentleman though. She could feel his breath against her neck, and the proximity sent a strange flutter through her.
“Steady now,” the gentleman said quietly, his voice somehow both comforting and commanding.
“Thank you, my lord,” Jaclyn murmured, her hands still gripping the edge of his jacket to steady herself. But before she could compose herself, the sound of heavy footsteps approached. She turned to find her brother, Barrett, glaring at the stranger holding her in his arms.
He glared at them, and he clenched his fists at his side as he met the man’s gaze. “What is this?” her brother demanded, his voice ringing through the air, attracting the attention of nearby revelers. “What are you doing with my sister, Your Grace?”
Your Grace? Jaclyn stared up at the man and frowned. He was a duke? As she had never been introduced to him before she hadn’t known that. Her ignorance had her addressing him incorrectly. But none of that mattered now. Her brother had come to the wrong conclusion, and she would have to stop him from overreacting before he did something foolish.
The duke looked at Barrett with a calm, collected expression. “I was merely ensuring her safety, Lord Oakley. She was knocked off balance by someone in the crowd, and I was simply assisting her.”
“Assisting her?” Barrett’s eyes flashed with suspicion. “I have no doubt you were ‘assisting’ her in other ways as well, Your Grace. I am quite certain that was not all you were doing.”
Jaclyn felt her face heat up, the sting of her brother’s words cutting through the air like a whip. She knew her brother’s temper—he was fiercely protective, but his accusations were coming too swiftly, too unfairly. “Barrett,” she said, her voice a soft but firm plea, “Please?—”
“Do not interrupt, Jaclyn,” her brother snapped. “This man, this duke, is not to be trusted. We all know of his reputation, and I shall not stand idly by while he uses his position to take advantage of you.”
Jaclyn’s gaze flicked to the duke in question. He remained utterly composed, his expression unreadable. She could see the tension in his jaw, but he did not respond immediately. Instead, he turned his attention back to her brother. It did not escape her notice that he still held her close as well. She should step out of his arms and diffuse the situation, but she seemed rooted in place.
“You are mistaken,” the duke said in a low, commanding voice. “I have not done anything to dishonor your sister, nor would I. If you have a grievance, it is with the man who caused her to stumble, not with me.”
Jaclyn finally started to come to her senses. She pushed herself free from the duke’s embrace and started toward her brother. She stopped short when she saw the angry glare on his face as he stalked forward. Had Barrett been drinking some of that highly intoxicating punch? His eyes also looked a little glazed over…
“Enough of this nonsense!” Barrett roared, his fists clenched at his sides. “You will not disgrace my sister! If you will not leave her be, I challenge you, Your Grace. I challenge you to a duel!”
A murmur rippled through the surrounding crowd, but the duke did not flinch. Instead, he stepped back, his eyes hardening slightly. “If you insist, Lord Oakley,” he said coolly, his tone betraying no hint of fear, “but know that a duel is a serious matter, and I do not take such challenges lightly.”
Jaclyn, who had been stunned silent, looked between the two men with increasing anxiety. “Barrett, please,” she implored, her voice shaking, “this is madness.” Her brother could not fight a duel. It would be disastrous. She would be ruined because of this… She might already be ruined because of this scene… She had to try to persuade him against such an action though. “You have to listen to me…” But Barrett, too proud to back down, kept his eyes locked with the duke, waiting for a response.
The duke took a breath, glancing briefly at Jaclyn before returning his attention to her brother. “If this is your wish, Lord Oakley, then I will not refuse it. But I advise you, as a man of honor, to reconsider. The consequences of such an action will not be easily undone.”
“There is nothing to reconsider.” Her brother lifted his chin boldly. “I will not retract my challenge.”
“Then we will meet at dawn.” He turned toward another gentleman that had come to stand beside him. The man had a striking appearance that commanded attention—much like the duke. His dark auburn hair, thick and slightly tousled, framed his face with a natural unruliness, as though it defied the proper grooming expected of him. His green eyes, deep and vibrant, held an intensity that could easily capture the gaze of anyone fortunate—or unfortunate—enough to meet them. His features were chiseled, with high cheekbones and a jawline that spoke of both sophistication and strength, lending him an air of authority without the need for words. He was not a beautiful man—his features too stark to be considered handsome, but Jaclyn would not easily forget him. Though she wanted to forget everything about this night. The duke addressed the man, “Lord Kendal, will you act as my second?”
“Aye,” the man replied with a heavy Scottish accent. “I will see tae the details.”
“Have him choose the weapon. I don’t much care what we use. I’m skilled with it all.” With that the duke turned to leave. As he strolled away, he added, “I’ll be at my townhouse. Find me there when it is all settled.”
Jaclyn’s heart pounded in her chest, both from the whirlwind of emotions inside her and the looming tension in the air. What had begun as a simple evening at Vauxhall had turned into a storm of accusations, defiance, and the undeniable heat between her and the man who had held her in his arms, only moments ago. Her brother’s temper, fueled by misguided protection, would bring about consequences he had not anticipated. And she? She was caught in the middle—torn between the loyalty she had to her family and the undeniable attraction she had for the very man who might die after he had come to her aid. It would all be for nothing...
