Page 2 of ?n Arranged Betrothal with a Blind Duke
Adrian's hand trailed over the rough stone walls as he navigated through the manor's dimly lit corridors, each stone a cold reminder of the fortress he was now trapped within. His other senses heightened, he smelled the musty scent of age and heard the low echo of his footsteps bouncing off the grand archways. Each step was an affirmation of the labyrinth he now lived in. His heaven had turned into his prison.
However, despite the challenging circumstances, he was not one to languish in self-pity. Adrian was a man of action, and this predicament, while it had altered his world, had not stolen his resolve. And Lady Marjorie Westfield, the spinster sister of Adrian’s father, had been a miracle to Adrian.
His aunt had been an absolute blessing, attending to his every need, even coming to his aid in the early hours of the morning should he require assistance or find himself unable to return to his chambers. He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for burdening her. It was this very sentiment that spurred the events that marked the commencement of his departure from Thornwood .
Six weeks after the accident, he joined his aunt for lunch for the first time since the fall that changed his life. He couldn’t see her face, but he heard the chair fall to the ground and her skirts rustling as she rushed up to greet him.
“Darling, you’ve come to join me?” she asked tentatively.
Adrian nodded, embracing her gently as she wrapped her arms around him.
“I am,” he said. “If that’s all right.”
His aunt laughed, putting her arm around his waist.
“It’s wonderful, darling,” she said.
He pushed aside the self-pity that had been eating away at him. He gave her a broad smile and nodded, allowing her to lead him to the table. He was just learning to use a cane, and he was growing accustomed to it quickly. Still, he was grateful for his aunt’s help.
Once he was seated beside her, his aunt went back to her chair. She put poached eggs, toasted bread, and a piece of steak on his plate, then put the fork in his hand. The food smelled wonderful, and it felt good to do something that felt natural to him. He tried not to think about how he couldn’t see the spread before them, or his aunt’s kind, caring face.
After a moment of silent eating, Adrian turned toward his aunt.
“I was thinking that I would like to attend a social event with you,” he said, getting directly to the point.
His aunt gasped, grabbing onto his arm gently.
“Truly?” she asked, her excitement clear in her voice.
Adrian nodded, smiling at how happy she sounded.
“Indeed,” he said. “I think I would like to start with a dinner party. A ball, I believe, would be too much just now. But maybe, if the party goes well, I will attend a ball before the end of this Season.”
Beside him, Marjorie shifted in her chair. He could feel the joy radiating off her, and he smiled again.
“Splendid,” she said. “There is a dinner party this week. Would you like for me to let Lord and Lady Procton know that we will both be in attendance?”
Adrian nodded. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for a dinner party that soon. But it had been his idea. And what better time to start reintegrating with society than immediately?
“That would be lovely,” he said.
That weekend, Adrian had Blake dress him in a fine crimson suit with a cravat that was so deep red it was almost black, boots that matched the cravat, and a crimson top hat. His cane was black, so it complimented his outfit. And his light blond hair was combed back and tucked neatly beneath the hat. He couldn’t see himself, but Blake assured him that he looked sharper and more refined than he ever had.
The trip to Lord and Lady Procton’s estate was nerve racking for Adrian. He was happy to let his aunt prattle on excitedly about how thrilled she was that he was attending the party with her. He let himself believe that, as she told him, that it would be a wonderful evening. He even allowed himself to think that the ton wouldn’t be as critical as he had first feared after his accident.
However, from the moment he and Marjorie Westfield entered the manor, he could feel scrutinizing, judgmental eyes on him. He heard the whispers as he and his aunt passed, and the conversations that quieted when the guests laid eyes on him. His self-consciousness was overwhelming. And yet, for the sake of his aunt, he put on a tense smile and pretended to not notice that everyone was behaving as though he was a monster.
When dinner was finally served, disaster struck. The layout of the mansion was unfamiliar to him, and he was clinging to his aunt for guidance. But as they turned a corner, his cane got ahead of him. He tripped a gentleman just ahead of them, right around the corner. The man fell, creating a scene around them as others tried to help him off the ground.
When the gentleman regained his composure, he immediately confronted Adrian, standing face to face with him.
“You really must watch what you are doing,” he said with a sneer in his voice. “I don’t know why someone like you would dare try to mingle in with normal society again.”
Adrian, feeling utterly humiliated, had tried to mumble an apology and an explanation of his situation. But the man stormed off, the cluster of people who had stopped to help or watch the spectacle uttering whispers of things like ‘disgraceful’ and ‘ghastly.’ Beside him, his aunt defended him. But no one responded to her. For the rest of the evening, he and Marjorie were virtually invisible.
When they returned home that night, Adrian hugged his aunt tightly.
“I’m so sorry, Aunt Marjorie,” he said. “I feel horrible for embarrassing you.”
