Page 41 of ?n Arranged Betrothal with a Blind Duke
“It is more than a pleasure, darling,” she said. "I couldn't be more thrilled about assisting in any way with this wedding.”
As they conversed about the upcoming wedding, Annabelle couldn't help but be moved by Marjorie's earnest efforts to ensure the occasion would be a memorable one. She saw in her a kindred spirit, a kind, motherly woman yearning to weave magic into the threads of her life.
Then came the moment that left Annabelle spellbound.
“I cannot stand it any longer,” Marjorie said, cutting herself off in the middle of a sentence about wedding attire. “I called you here because I have a surprise for you.”
Annabelle blinked, already rather surprised.
“Oh?” she asked.
Marjorie nodded, rising and holding out her hands to Penelope and Annabelle.
“Come with me,” she said.
With the same excitement as Penelope had earlier, Marjorie led the two younger women up the stairs and to chambers that appeared to be a guest room. She waltzed over to the wardrobe, opening it with a flourish. With a twinkle in her eye, she revealed her assortment of wedding dresses. One by one, the gowns were unveiled, each an exquisite creation of either satin or silk and lace, pearls, and velvet. Annabelle could only marvel, her eyes wide as she took in the dazzling display. Each dress was more gorgeous than the last, embodying a grace Annabelle hadn't considered for herself.
“I had these delivered for you to see,” she said. “If you find one you like, we will have the rest sent back. And if you don’t, do not fret. We can have more delivered, or we can take you to the village to find one.”
Annabelle nodded, but she was too stunned to speak. She was vaguely aware of Penelope gasping beside her as she took in the sight of the dresses. It was a selection fit for a queen, in Annabelle’s eyes. The amount of care and thought that had gone into choosing the dresses was very apparent. She would be the luckiest woman in England to wear any one of them.
“They are incredible,” she breathed, looking at Marjorie with tears in her eyes.
Penelope, as always, proved indispensable in the process of selection. Her keen eye for fashion and her innate sense of style made her the perfect companion for such a task.
Finally, their eyes settled on a dress that was nothing short of exquisite. A pristine creation of pale ivory satin, it was the epitome of regency elegance. The gown was designed with a soft empire waist that flowed gracefully into a skirt of cascading silk. The bodice was a marvel, adorned with the most delicate lacework and trimmed with tiny seed pearls. Its short, puffed sleeves were sheer, accented with intricate motifs of floral embroidery.
They had found the dress. The dress she would wear when she would become a bride. A bride to a man who was a duke. The weight of the title hung before her, a beacon of the change that was imminent.
As Penelope congratulated her, a whirlwind of emotions seized Annabelle. Excitement, apprehension, joy, and a strange sort of sadness tugged at her heart. Her life, as she knew it, was about to change. A soft sigh escaped her as she traced the fine embroidery on the gown, her reflection in the mirror a ghost of the woman she would soon become.
She was not just choosing a dress. She was choosing a life. A role she was yet to understand fully, responsibilities she was yet to fathom. She would be a bride, yes, but more than that, she would become a duchess.
“Let’s see how it looks on you,” Marjorie said.
Annabelle nodded.
“Yes, please,” she whispered.
Chapter Nineteen
After the frenetic pace and incessant din of London, the quiet expansiveness of the English countryside was a welcome balm. Adrian gazed out of the carriage window, his gaze drawn to the landscape awash in the golden hue of the setting sun. It had been three demanding days of legal rigmarole, society gatherings, and business affairs. Henry had attended to a string of meetings while Adrian had navigated the labyrinthine bureaucracy to secure his marriage license.
The carriage pulled up in front of Henry’s home. Its imposing structure was softened by the warm glow of lamps that shone from the windows. This was Henry's home, a comfortable retreat far removed from the hustle of city life.
“Successful trip, all in all,” Henry mused, gathering his coat. His voice had a serene quality, underlined by the satisfaction of securing new business dealings in the technology and wine importation industries. He was a formidable businessman, his sharp intellect always on display.
“Yes, indeed,” Adrian replied, his tone laden with an unusual gravity. “You return half a fortune richer. And the marriage license is secure.” He patted his pocket, where the document rested like a hidden treasure.
Henry paused, taking in Adrian's words, and then he broke into a smile.
“Well, my friend, that's one step closer to married life,” he said. “You've chosen an excellent partner. And remember, my council is always at your disposal, no matter the hour.”
Adrian managed a smile in return, touched by his friend's unwavering support. “I will remember that, Henry. Thank you.”
The carriage rolled away, leaving Henry waving from his doorstep. And at long last, Adrian was alone with his thoughts. The familiar road to Thornwood Manor stretched before him. His heart quickened as he envisioned the beautiful, familiar silhouette of his future home. The manor held the promise of the life he yearned to have - filled with companionship, love, laughter.
As the lush foliage gave way to the picturesque sight of Thornwood Manor, Adrian's mind whirled with the myriad of details yet to be sorted. The arrangements for the wedding, the guests, the banquet... He felt the tickling tendrils of anticipation, intertwined with a flutter of apprehension.
