Page 16 of ?n Arranged Betrothal with a Blind Duke
“Good day, Miss Ludlow,” he called, a hint of warmth creeping into his voice. His words rode the soft wind, travelling the distance between them.
“Your Grace,” she said. “Good day to you, as well.”
He extended the pile of books towards her, an offering filled with silent respect and admiration. Their hands brushed in the transaction, a fleeting moment that sent an electric jolt, a thrill of awareness, cascading through his veins. His senses heightened, the world became acutely defined - the sound of her laughter, the scent of her perfume, the way he could see faint outlines of tendrils as the wind flirted with her hair.
It was as if, even though he had never seen her, he could see her the way he saw everything else since becoming blind. And as he had thought the previous day, in his mind’s eye, she was absolutely beautiful.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said. She sounded breathless, and he wondered if she had felt the same jolt that he had. He desperately wanted to ask her. But he reminded himself that not only had he just met the young woman, but he was also a blind man.
He didn’t want to risk frightening off the one friend he had managed to make since his accident by making things uncomfortable. He had quickly grown accustomed to hearing her laughter and the melody of her sweet voice. The idea that he could do something to risk never hearing it again was enough to silence his question.
Instead, he smiled at her, offering her his free arm.
“Would you like to join me for a stroll?” he asked.
Miss Ludlow paused, but in the faint milkiness of his vision and the bright light of the day, he could see movement from her side to her face. She must have put a hand to her mouth, and he wondered if she was blushing. If she was as pretty as he imagined, a blush to her cheeks would be most endearing.
“That sounds wonderful, Your Grace,” she said.
Gently, she took his arm, and another jolt coursed through him. The young woman seemed to melt into him, and his heart skipped.
“Would you like me to carry those books for you?” he asked, suddenly remembering himself. In his excitement to see her, he had forgotten to put them in a basket or bag for her. He stopped, starting to pull away from her, but she patted his arm with a gentleness that made him shiver.
“No, Your Grace,” she said sweetly. “I’ve brought a bag. That’s very sweet of you to offer, though.”
Adrian grinned at her again, eating up the kind words.
“My pleasure, really,” he said.
They walked along, with Adrian feeling the way with his cane, which was in his other hand. Patches ran not beside him, but beside Miss Ludlow, occasionally letting out a bark so that she would speak to him.
“Would you rather I carried you, sweet Patches?” she asked the animal.
An excited bark made Adrian burst out laughing. And a giggle from Miss Ludlow told Adrian that the dog might, indeed, be begging to be carried. She issued a small grunt, and a second later Adrian realized that she had, indeed, picked up the big dog.
“Are you happy now, darling?” she asked, gasping between her peals of laughter.
Adrian shook his head.
“Bad dog, Patches,” he said, trying to sound stern through his own laughter.
The only response he got from his dog was a big huff, which he felt as much as he heard. There were kissing sounds, and Adrian guessed that Miss Ludlow was kissing the dog’s fur. He smiled warmly at her, finding himself won over by her as quickly as his dog had been.
“He is such a delight,” she said with much sincerity in her words. “I don’t believe I have ever seen such a sweet dog.”
Adrian grinned.
“As I said before, he isn’t usually this way with just anyone,” he said.
The young lady laughed grunting again as Adrian heard the sound of paws once more scuffling along in the grass.
“Well, I feel truly honoured to have made such a wonderful friend,” she said.
Every word she spoke, every heartfelt sentiment she shared, every enchanting smile she offered him, felt like a precious gift. He found himself drawn to her as a moth to a flame, the illumination of her intelligence casting a glow on his heart.
Adrian found himself more entwined in the enchantment of Miss Ludlow. The day, once ordinary, now held a spark of magic. In the heart of the meadow, amidst shared laughter and thoughtful silences, he felt a stirring within his heart, a profound sentiment growing steadily like the wildflowers under the warmth of the sun.
The sweet tranquility of the meadow became a stage, a verdant canvas on which Adrian and Miss Ludlow painted vibrant strokes of conversation. Every word, every shared sentiment was like a treasure Adrian cradled in his heart. There was something profound about their shared moments, a connection that transcended the confines of social norms and personal limitations.
