Page 39 of ?n Arranged Betrothal with a Blind Duke
“You are positively radiant,” Sarah said, looking Annabelle over and smoothing out a wrinkle in her skirt. “Being betrothed seems to suit you quite well.”
Annabelle blushed.
“I do not know about that,” she said, ignoring the brief shiver of delight that traveled unbiddenly up her spine. “But I do enjoy Adrian’s company very much. And it is wonderful to not have to think of enduring that horrid Lord Spencer for the rest of my life.”
Sarah gave her a knowing look as she tucked a strand of hair behind Annabelle’s ear.
“Enjoying each other’s company is the first step to a happy life together,” she said.
Annabelle shook her head, but her smile grew. She couldn’t deny that she had never experienced feelings like the ones she felt when she was around her fiancé. She didn’t know if he felt the same for her, but his laughter and the way she caught him sneaking glances at her when they were together implied that he wasn’t uncomfortable with her. Perhaps, Sarah was right. Perhaps, that was only the beginning for them.
When she was dressed, Sarah walked with her out of her chambers. Her soft-soled slippers barely whispered against the grand hallway's polished oak flooring as she made her way through the hushed corridors of the stately manor house. Shadows played on the walls, dancing to the rhythm of her fluttering heart. Her mind flitted from one thought to another, much like the hummingbird that fluttered about in the gardens. What adventures would the day bring? A chance meeting with a certain gentleman, perhaps? A thrilling ride across the vast estate?
She dismissed Sarah, who went to tidy up her bathing and sitting rooms. Annabelle continued on her own, making her way quietly down the stairs. Her wanderings led her to the parlor, and it was there that her musings were interrupted. Hearing voices within, she paused, hesitating before she walked past the cracked door. She peeked carefully inside, her heart leaping into her throat.
Oswald lay sprawled across the velvet chaise lounge. His once crisp cravat was skewed, his brocaded waistcoat stained, a visible testament to his nocturnal excesses. Empty decanters littered the ornate tabletop while half-burnt candles cast a somber glow across his disheveled countenance. He was as much a part of their grand family estate as he was a blight upon it.
A sigh escaped Annabelle's lips, the delicate sound seeming louder in the silent hallway than she intended. Her heart ached for her uncle, lost in his world of indulgence and despair. She hadn’t known him well before he became her guardian. But she was sure that, at one point in his life, he had been a pleasant and friendly man. If her father’s disposition was any indication. But then, Oswald might have always been a cranky, selfish grouch. She couldn’t know for sure. All she knew was that she lived with constant anxiety because of her uncle’s cruel, drunken demeanor.
“No, not today,” she whispered to herself, her gaze sliding away from Oswald's unconscious form. Today was her day, and she refused to let his state taint it. With a quiet resolve, she made her way out of the parlor, leaving Oswald to his dreams.
Her spirit rose again, and she could almost feel the flutter of butterfly wings within her chest. Yes, today was going to be her day, a day of possibilities and promise. No despair, no disappointments could mar it. As the manor house came to life with the day's activities, Annabelle was ready to face it, her heart radiant with hope. After all, wasn't hope the best breakfast for the soul?
The anticipation within her was not just a feeling; it was a wish, a prayer wrapped in the folds of her heart, waiting to burst forth in a resplendent bloom. As she strode forward, the world outside beckoned to her, waiting to unfold its myriad secrets. Today, she believed, would indeed be a day of new beginnings.
Just as she was heading for the servant’s entrance, the butler came to Annabelle with a small, parchment envelope. His silver brows rose as he presented it to her on an ornate silver tray, a delicate wisp of a smile dancing on his thin lips.
“An epistle for you, Miss Ludlow,” he announced, his voice as hushed as the rustle of silk.
The envelope was aged, much like the hands that presented it to her. Its cream surface was adorned with a seal of vibrant crimson wax. At the sight of the emblem impressed into it, a lion rampart against a thorny bush, her heart gave a small flutter. It was the seal of Thornwood Manor.
Her fingers traced the wax seal, its intricate design a representation of the noble lineage of its house. The seal's discovery piqued her interest, her heart echoing the rhythm of a waltz in her chest. She carefully broke it open, unveiling an elegantly scripted invitation.
The invitation was from Marjorie. It was an invitation to a morning tea to discuss the upcoming wedding. Marjorie's flowing script trailed off at the bottom with a note stating Annabelle was free to bring along a friend.
A smile, like the first light of dawn, graced Annabelle's face. The serenity of her eyes gave way to twinkling merriment. She knew just the person who would relish such an opportunity. Penelope had an unparalleled enthusiasm for social gatherings and a fondness for scones. And Annabelle had the idea that she and Marjorie would get along famously.
The invitation promised a diversion from their daily monotony, an exciting secret they could share. Annabelle imagined Penelope's surprise, the eagerness in her eyes. It was an enticing prospect, one that chased away any lingering shadows of her uncle’s presence and attitude.
As the letter found its place within the folds of her dress, she gathered her shawl and hat. Her heart matched her brisk steps with its pulsating rhythm, her anticipation a song that echoed through the grand halls. She raced up the stairs, calling for Sarah as she went. Her lady’s maid met her in her chambers, where she was already removing her plain dress before the maid joined her.
“I am to have tea with Adrian’s aunt,” she said. “I wish to wear something a bit nicer than this.”
Sarah grinned and nodded.
“My pleasure, Miss Ludlow,” she said.
With Sarah’s help, Annabelle chose a hunter green day dress that was embroidered with silver thread and matching shoes and came with a custom-made parasol on which those two colors were reversed. Sarah also traded her bonnet for a hunter green hat with silver flowers, and she restyled Annabelle’s hair, pulling it up so that a cascade of waves rolled down the back of her neck, while the others rested atop her head beneath the hat. As a final touch, Sarah sprayed Annabelle with her rose perfume and applied a light sprinkle of rouge to her cheeks. Ready at last, Annabelle once again exited her chambers, this time with purpose in her step.
When she reached the servant’s entrance, Annabelle bid the butler a quick farewell, her eyes alight with the joyous secret she harbored. As she stepped outside, the cool breeze brushing against her cheeks felt like a sweet promise of the delightful day that lay ahead.
The path leading to Penelope's residence was a familiar one, a journey she had made countless times. Yet, today, it felt like an adventure. The sun-dappled path seemed brighter, the rustle of the leaves a more melodic tune. The thrill of sharing the news added wings to her feet, and before she knew it, the familiar façade of Penelope's home came into view.
Annabelle knocked gently on Penelope's residence, her heart fluttering with unspoken joy. The door swung open, revealing her friend's cheerful face, her eyes as bright as a summer day. The sight of her brought warmth to Annabelle's heart, a welcome reprieve from the brisk morning air.
“Penelope, I have some news,” Annabelle said giddily. She couldn't hold back her excitement. It bubbled up within her, an effervescent wave eager to break upon the shore.
Penelope's eyes widened in anticipation, a light in them that could outshine the sunniest day.
