His Chosen, for she was First

Chapter3

London

1706

Jaclyn

My eyes fly immediately to the owner of those words. My throat goes dry, and swallowing becomes impossible the moment I behold him.

God preserve me!

Never had I seen a gentleman as captivating as he. His hair, of a raven black, was neatly brushed back. His attire, refined and costly, made him stand out and eclipse any other gentleman who had ever crossed my path.

His green eyes were so clear that I could almost glimpse his soul through them; at that instant, they locked onto mine, unsettling me. A flush immediately coated my cheeks.

—I... —I stammered—, I am no lady of society.

He arched a brow, lending him an exceedingly sensual air before my gaze. His features aligned to perfection with that expression, making him appear robust and utterly masculine.

I blinked, feeling overwhelmed by his side. I averted my attention toward another quarter of the room while I seized the second glass to blunt the strange effect that this man wrought upon me. The bitter liquid flowed swiftly down my throat.

—You ought not to drink in such a manner, or you shall scarcely survive until midnight —the stranger chided again.

—I beg your pardon?

Did I even know him? Why did he persist in speaking to me?

—Not even the sturdiest drinkers can swallow whiskey thus. You shall find yourself inebriated in a matter of minutes.

—And how does that concern you, sir? —I countered, straining to master my speech and avoid another stammer.

Nevertheless, my tone struck firmer than intended, and I watched astonishment alter his features.

—Give that to me —he growled, attempting to wrest the glass from my hands.

I took a step back, incredulous at what was transpiring. I opened my mouth to retort, but at that precise moment, our hostess, the Duchess, hurried toward us. I turned my back to the table, sweeping my hands behind my body to conceal the drink.

I smiled at the Duchess through gritted teeth and offered her a brief curtsy, remembering that, before becoming a duchess, she was a princess of our realm by virtue of being King Frederic IV’s sister. I noticed that the fellow who had nearly snatched my glass, and who had even dared to scold me, took the elderly lady's hand with utmost gallantry to press a kiss upon the back of it.

The Duchess smiled broadly at him and then looked toward me.

—I see you have already made the acquaintance of Duke Hadid McCullough of Scotland, Lady Jaclyn —she told me.

I swallowed hard, stunned. I gritted my teeth once more in a vague attempt to feign a formal smile, directing it toward him this time.

—A pleasure, milord. I am Jaclyn Hendricks —I murmured, bowing my head.

—Daughter to my cousin, the Duke of Axxwell —the Duchess added.

I looked the man in the eye, and he held my gaze. He extended his hand, requesting mine this time. I surrendered it to him, feeling rather uneasy, and he placed a kiss upon the back of my fingers.

A tingle coursed through my entire being, and I thanked the Lord of Hosts for wearing my gloves. His proximity made me deeply restless; I cared not to imagine how my body would have reacted had his lips brushed directly against my bare skin.

What the devil are you thinking, Jaclyn?

—A pleasure, Lady Hendricks —he expressed in his deep voice.

I withdrew my hand with evident tension.

—How do you find London, milord? —Duchess Vanessa inquired.

The Scotsman let his gaze wander around the room, yet his green eyes fell back upon me as he replied:

—An absolute beauty; never did I think it would be thus.

My heart stopped for a few seconds.

The Duchess's laughter broke our visual contact and dispelled the sharp tension of the moment. We both turned to look at her.

—It appears as though you had never set foot on English soil! —The hostess exclaimed, amused.

—In truth, I have not, but believe me, it has been well worth the journey —the Scotsman clarified, and once more his eyes fell with excessive intensity upon me.

This time, my pulse quickened. No, I could not endure such tension.

—If you will excuse me...

—My dear, where are you going? —Vanessa inquired.

I stealthily left the glass upon the table, yet I perceived that the Scotsman noted the gesture. His lips twitched, and I continued to look at the lady.

—I believe my sister is calling for me...

—She is dancing with the Prince —the Scotsman interjected, and I immediately swept the ballroom with my gaze.

Gabriella was dancing hand in hand with a gentleman who, indeed, possessed all the bearing of the much-mentioned Welsh prince. My nerves frayed.

—I shall seek my mother, if you will excuse me —I said breathlessly, feeling everything churn within me.

I offered them a final, stiff curtsy, and without another word, I departed. The remainder of the evening passed with me conversing animatedly with Meredith, who was the closest to me of our entire circle. Nevertheless, I could not help but observe the Duke from afar; he held my gaze and his lips twitched whenever our eyes crossed.

I knew no longer whether it was the effect of the spirit or something else; I only had the certainty that I loathed entirely what that man provoked within me. I had yet to assimilate what had just occurred, nor did I wish to, so I attempted to distract myself with other matters.

At every moment, my eyes sought my sister, and I smiled happily to see her dancing with the prince of whom everyone spoke. They truly looked the perfect match: both fair, tall, and of refined countenances. The envious glares from many of the young ladies debuting that night did not pass unnoticed.

But she was my sister, and she competed with no one; she eclipsed the rest. By the time the fourth dance of the night concluded, she had danced only with the Prince, and they had not ceased conversing for a single instant.

—Have you seen, Jaclyn? —Mother appeared by my side, contemplating with a smile the very spot that Meredith and I observed.

—Wedding bells shall soon ring, Lady Hendricks —my friend added, and Mother could not be more blissful at the thought.

At every second, I perceived that someone was watching me. I tried to seek the source, yet I found it impossible not to look at him.

Gabriella and the Prince approached us, and we immediately curtsied before the gentleman. From up close, he looked far more attractive; he was quite young, like my sister. But not as attractive as the Sco...

I scolded myself mentally.

—A pleasure, Your Highness —the three of us said in unison.

—This is my sister Jaclyn, my mother Stella, and my friend, Countess Caldwell —Gabi introduced us.

The evening culminated, and with it, melancholy returned to engulf me. We alighted from the carriage upon arriving at our manor and entered all together.

—Father, I must speak with you —I commented, and he fixed a stern gaze upon me.

He motioned in the direction to go, and I followed him. I was nervous about his reaction; my relationship with him was no longer, nor would ever be, the same as before. It pained me that it was so, yet I understood it.

We entered his study, and he asked me to take a seat.

—Father, I have resolved to depart for the villa at Whitehall; Kathleen and I, I confessed at last.

I could not stop wringing my hands from nerves. His cold gaze remained gélid. He stayed silent for a few seconds until he spoke:

—Today, they have requested your sister's hand in marriage —he expressed, completely ignoring my previous words.

—What wondrous tidings, Father! I am exceedingly glad.

—Do you wish for your sister to wed, Jaclyn? —he asked gravely all of a sudden.

I did not comprehend that question.

—Of course. How could I not wish it?

—Then you cannot depart —he settled with determination.

—What? Why?

—If you depart, your sister shall not marry. Furthermore, if you do not wed, your sister will never be able to do so —he affirmed with weariness.

—What is it that...?

—Those are the statutes the King decreed.

—Must I marry so that Gabriella...? —my voice was barely a whisper.

—Exactly.

—But how am I to marry? In the first place, I have no desire to contract marriage —I countered.

—You are being selfish, Jaclyn! —he exclaimed, losing his temper.

—Aside from the fact that it is not within my plans, whom do you wish for me to wed, Father? I have no suitor; I am older, and I have a daughter. Who would ever take charge of me?

—You already possess a suitor, daughter —he answered to but one of my questions.

—What are you saying?

—You shall only depart from this room as a married woman, for if you do not, your sister will never find happiness.

My sister?

—But I have no desire to marry —I raised my voice slightly.

—You shall marry, Jaclyn! Everything is already signed!

—Whom do you wish for me to wed? —My voice trembled.

—You cannot know that just yet —he countered, unsettling me all the more.

I rose to my feet, entirely incensed.

I walked toward the study door, yet I turned to interrogate him one final time:

—Why me, Father? Why must it be me, when I desire never again to be near any man?

—For being the first... —he replied, waving his hands—, for being the firstborn.