Page 34 of ?n Arranged Betrothal with a Blind Duke
“As soon as possible,” he said. “I will leave immediately to procure a special license in London.As we reside on the outskirts of London , I will need a few days.The wedding will take place within a few weeks from then.”
Again, the man huffed. The silence was longer, and Adrian sensed that he was thinking hard about his decision. But at last, he did speak, and Adrian was all too happy.
“So be it,” he mumbled. “Leave me. I have my own preparations to make.”
Adrian didn’t hide a smirk as he turned to leave the room. Yes, you have an arrangement to break, he thought smugly to himself. Good luck with that, you unfortunate soul.
Chapter Sixteen
Meanwhile, in the garden, the gentle breeze whispered through the blooming roses as Annabelle kept Patches, her faithful canine companion, by her side. She anxiously awaited the duke’s return from his meeting with Oswald, her heart burdened with a mixture of hope and trepidation. The outcome of this encounter could shape her future in ways she dared not yet fathom.
As she stroked Patches' soft fur, her mind teemed with a whirlwind of emotions. She understood all too well the power Oswald held over her fate. He, who had once declared her hand would be bestowed upon Lord Spencer, could easily rebuff Adrian's audacious proposition. Annabelle's heart skipped a beat at the mere thought of such a possibility, her eyes darting towards the manor, longing for a glimpse of the man who had captivated her soul.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Duke of Thornwood emerged from the grand doors of the manor, his figure tall and commanding, despite the cane that guided his steps. Annabelle's heart raced, her breath caught in her throat as she watched him approach with purpose in his stride. Her eyes searched his face for any hint of the meeting's outcome, her fingers twisting nervously in the folds of her skirt.
“Miss Ludlow,” he called out, his voice a melody that soothed her restless soul. “I have spoken with your uncle.”
Annabelle’s heart leapt into her throat. She hesitated to ask the question, because a negative answer would destroy her. But she had to ask, as the duke was now standing before her.
“What did he say?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The duke slowly grinned at her in a way that melted her heart.
“He has given his approval.” He spoke calmly, but Annabelle could have sworn that she saw a spark of joy twinkling in his eyes.
Relief washed over her, flooding her being with a wave of gratitude. She could scarcely believe her ears. The Duke of Thornwood – Adrian, since he was to be her husband – had succeeded where she feared he might fail. A smile danced upon her lips as she fought to contain her elation. She was still uncertain about a marriage of convenience, even to a man with as much in common with her as the duke. But the prospect felt far better to her than a marriage to the aging, unsavory Lord Spencer.
“He has agreed?” she managed to utter, her voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and wonder.
Adrian nodded, his own smile mirroring hers.
“Indeed,” he replied, his voice tinged with triumph. “Oswald has given his blessing for our union.”
Annabelle's heart swelled with happiness, the weight of uncertainty lifted from her shoulders. She could hardly contain the overwhelming joy that surged through her veins. The garden seemed to transform before her eyes, blossoming with newfound vibrancy and life.
“But there is more,” Adrian continued, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “I must journey to London to obtain a special license.”
A special license? The words reverberated through her mind, igniting a flicker of curiosity. She had heard of such a thing, a way to expedite the path to matrimony. The mere thought of being bound to Adrian, free from the constraints of society's rigid timetable, sent a shiver of delight down her spine.
“Of course, Your Gr… Adrian,” she murmured, her voice filled with disbelief and, heavens help her, a little excitement.
A tender smile graced his lips, his eyes glowing with adoration.
“Then it is settled,” he declared, his voice filled with conviction. “Tonight, I extend an invitation for you to join me at my residence for dinner. I desire for you to meet my Aunt Marjorie.”
“I would be delighted,” she replied, her voice a gentle whisper. “To meet your Aunt Marjorie tonight.”
Adrian gave her a warm smile.
“Very good,” he said. “Then I shall see you tonight, Annabelle.”
She stood frozen, watching him head back to his carriage. Something about the way he had said her name thrilled her in a way that utterly surprised her. For the first time since Oswald had told her he meant to marry her off to Lord Spencer, she felt nothing but a pure rush of excitement for her future.
Once Adrian had returned to his home to arrange the preparations for her to join him and his aunt for dinner, Annabelle made her way to Penelope's cottage. Seeking solace in the embrace of a dear friend seemed the perfect balm for her fluttering heart. As she stepped through the quaint wooden door, the familiar scents of home greeted her, mingling with the comforting sounds of Penelope's mother bustling about in the kitchen.
The air was thick with the sweet aroma of freshly baked pies, their delectable scent wafting through the air. Annabelle couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia as she watched Penelope's mother meticulously prepare each pastry, her skilled hands moving with practiced grace. It was a scene that spoke of love and familiarity, a haven of warmth amidst a world of uncertainty.
“Does Penelope know that you’re here, Annabelle, darling?” Harriot Brown asked.
