Page 8 of ?n Arranged Betrothal with a Blind Duke
Adrian bit his lip, not wanting to further his pity party by pointing out to his aunt that everyone he had encountered in public since losing his sight had treated him as an abomination. Fortunately, their conversation was abruptly cut short by the unexpected arrival of a familiar soul.
Adrian looked up at the sound of boisterous laughter echoing through the hallway. A broad grin spread across his face as the tall, robust figure of his best friend, Henry, burst into the room, his jovial nature infecting the sober atmosphere instantly.
“Adrian!” He boomed, enveloping his friend in a warm embrace. His loud cheer echoed through the stately room, bouncing off the walls lined with ancient family portraits and priceless heirlooms.
“Henry,” Adrian replied, clapping him on the back. “You haven't changed a bit.” The sight of his childhood friend, the same jovial spirit he had always been, brought a momentary respite to Adrian's heavy heart. His soul, weighed down by past encounters and emotional turmoil, felt lighter in Henry's energetic presence.
The pair settled into the plush armchairs by the hearth, exchanging tales and laughter over a pot of steaming tea.
“Where have you been hiding yourself?” Adrian asked as Aunt Marjorie summoned the servants to fetch more tea and treats.
Henry sighed, the sound of a weary but content man.
“Overseas, my friend,” he said. “I was in France for the past six months, just for one business deal. And I was in the Far East for nearly that long before that. I just returned to London a week ago. I concluded that my top priority in terms of official matters was to pay you a visit.”
Adrian grinned. Henry was the only person in London who saw him no differently since he became blind, apart from his aunt. When he was with Henry, it was easy for him to forget that he wasn’t a normal nobleman anymore. He usually hid when visitors came to Thornwood since his accident, infrequent though those occasions were. But Henry was one visitor that Adrian would always wish to see.
Amidst their hearty chatter, the topic of horse riding surfaced. It was Henry, ever eager for adventure, who brought it up.
“Adrian, when will we see you back in the saddle?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. “It's been too long since our last race, don't you think?”
The question, although posed innocently, struck Adrian like a bolt of lightning. His heart tightened within his chest, his mind besieged by haunting images. The accident that had robbed him of his sight, the breathless panic as he had fallen from his horse, the searing pain...
Three years. It had been three long, arduous years since he had last rode. The very suggestion of returning to the activity that had been the root of his tragedy sparked a surge of fear within him. He felt his muscles tense involuntarily, his hands instinctively tightening around the porcelain teacup.
His eyes, veiled by the murky darkness of his memories, met those of his friend. There was genuine concern etched into Henry's features, the joviality fading momentarily. Adrian took a deep breath, steeling himself against the wave of fear that threatened to consume him.
“I...” He began, his voice quieter than he'd intended. “I haven't thought about it, Henry. It's been a long time, and things are not the same anymore.” His words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the trials he had endured.
Being with his best friend again stirred the reminder of a time when life was simpler, a time before his accident. But it also evoked the stark reality of his present situation. The prospect of returning to horse riding was daunting, but Adrian couldn't deny the tiny spark of longing that flickered within him. For the first time in three years, he dared to envision himself back in the saddle, the wind in his hair, the strength of the horse beneath him... Fearful, yet not entirely unwelcome.
Henry, however, seemed to have caught on to Adrian's hesitation and did not falter in his persuasive pursuit. With a determined glint in his eyes, he leaned forward in his chair, gripping Adrian's shoulder in a firm, reassuring grip.
“Adrian,” he said, his tone as earnest as Adrian had ever heard it, “horse riding could be your path back to freedom. It could be a distraction, a way to escape from the burdens you've been shouldering. You know, a therapeutic pursuit.”
Adrian's eyebrows knitted together at Henry's suggestion, a multitude of emotions threatening to overflow. The sheer thought of returning to horseback was enough to send tremors of fear cascading down his spine. Yet, there was something intriguing about Henry's words that he couldn't dismiss.
His gaze fell to the intricate patterns woven into the expensive rug beneath his feet. It was not often that he allowed his uncertainties to surface. But here, with his best friend and confidante, he let the defenses crumble a bit.
Therapeutic. He pondered over the word, letting it roll around in his mind, coating his thoughts with its promises. Could it be? Could riding be the key to freeing him from the burdens that had been pulling him under? The shackles that had bound his heart since the accident, could they be broken?
As he contemplated, he felt the undercurrent of doubt begin to swirl, tugging at his newfound spark of hope. He remembered the sensation of the ground rushing up to meet him, the gut-wrenching fear, the agonizing darkness that had consumed his sight. Was it worth risking another catastrophe?
Yet, there was an undeniable allure to Henry's proposal. An offer of an outlet, a chance to find freedom, to feel the wind whipping past him as he raced across open fields once again. The memories of those exhilarating moments of freedom were etched deep within his soul, never fully forgotten despite the time and trauma.
Caught in this emotional tug-of-war, Adrian found himself considering the possibility. He was at a precipice, peering into the chasm of his fears, and for the first time, he felt a gust of courage stirring within him. A fleeting feeling, yes, but one that suggested perhaps he might just be ready to face his fear.
“Maybe you're right, Henry,” he said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet carrying an unforeseen weight. “Perhaps it is time for me to consider trying again.”
Henry’s answering smile was triumphant yet tender, a testament to their years of friendship. As Adrian stared into the flickering flames in the hearth, a tiny glimmer of hope ignited within him. Uncertain and unsure, but existent nonetheless, a small flicker in the darkness he had grown accustomed to.
“Wonderful, Adrian,” he said, grinning. “I will let you decide when you are ready. And I will be willing and waiting when you are.”
Adrian's routine engagement with his steward, Higgins, followed soon after. Higgins was an elderly gentleman with a disciplined air, wearing a perpetually thoughtful expression behind his gold-rimmed spectacles. His diligence and careful organization were admirable traits that had proved invaluable in managing the estate.
Seated across from Adrian, Higgins began detailing the monthly records, his voice a steady drone as he listed out transactions, expenses, and incomes with practiced ease. His hands shuffled through neatly stacked papers, each document detailing the complex workings of the estate.
“Your Grace,” he began, his tone formal yet infused with a subtle warmth that came from years of faithful service. “I have the monthly accounts and records ready for your perusal.”
