Page 42 of ?n Arranged Betrothal with a Blind Duke
His heart pounded a tumultuous rhythm as he anticipated the union that awaited him. It was an intricate dance of emotions – an intense longing to embrace this new chapter, contrasted by the uncertainty that accompanies such momentous change. It wasn't the commitment that he feared, but the weight of his role as a husband, the promise he was about to make, the profound expectation attached to his impending vow.
He leaned back against the plush upholstery of the carriage, his heart heavy with the thoughts. He had everything planned out to the minutest detail, and yet, it felt like he was teetering on the edge of an abyss, the unknown depths beckoning him.
Adrian pressed his fingers against the pocket of his coat, the texture of the marriage license soothing under his touch. It was more than just a piece of paper; it was a passport to a life that he had only dreamt of, a life that was now within his grasp.
“Almost there,” he murmured to himself, watching as Thornwood Manor grew larger on the horizon. His life was about to change in unimaginable ways, and he found himself surprisingly eager to meet it head on, to start this next chapter. The wedding was no longer a distant event. It was real, tangible, looming ever closer as the manor came into view.
Steeling his resolve, he stared at the grand silhouette of Thornwood Manor, ready to step into the exciting unknown, fortified by the love he held for the woman he was about to call his wife.
As Adrian alighted from the carriage, a familiar, excitable ball of fur came bounding towards him. Patches, the Manor's steadfast canine companion, was overjoyed at his arrival. The retriever's tail wagged furiously as he launched himself at Adrian, a sloppy, wet tongue eagerly lapping at his hands. Adrian couldn't help but chuckle, his heart warming at the pup's unabashed affection. His mind, a constant tumult of thoughts and worries, quieted momentarily at this simple, pure interaction. His hand found its way into the thick, soft fur of Patches' coat, the familiar sensation grounding him.
“Easy, boy,” he murmured, his voice soft. “I've missed you too.”
Taking a deep breath, Adrian lifted his gaze to the imposing edifice of Thornwood Manor. It was a place that held many memories, ones he looked forward to creating anew with his bride-to-be. As he moved towards the entrance, Patches trotted beside him, a constant comforting presence.
On entering the manor, the familiar scents of beeswax, old books, and gently simmering tea filled his nostrils. It was a scent that felt like home, one he had longed to experience again. The sight that met his eyes warmed his heart further. In the cozy drawing room, the soft glow of the fire illuminated Aunt Marjorie and Annabelle, deep in lively conversation over tea.
“Ah, Adrian. You've returned,” she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling in delight. “We've been eagerly waiting for your arrival.”
Adrian embraced his aunt, then turned to smile at Annabelle. He had forced himself to put away the worries he felt for his betrothed when he and Henry had been on their way to London. But now that he had returned, he nearly melted with relief at having heard her musical laugh when he entered the room.
“Welcome home, Adrian,” she said, her voice melodious, filling the room with a warmth that even the crackling fire couldn't match.
As he moved closer to join them, his anxieties began to melt away, replaced by a burgeoning sense of joy and anticipation. For the first time since leaving London, he felt a glimmer of peace. The sight of Annabelle and Aunt Marjorie, their laughter mingling with the comforting sounds of Thornwood Manor, was a salve to his turbulent thoughts.
And with every step he took towards them, he felt more at home, more ready to embrace the future that awaited him.
“Thank you, Annabelle,” he said softly, his cheeks warming from the inside, rather than from the fireplace. “It is good to be home.” And to be back with you…
Adrian approached the pair, the rustle of his clothing a quiet accompaniment to the soft murmur of conversation. His gaze lingered on the delicate China cups, the rich aroma of tea wafting towards him. The mundane details, in their sweet familiarity, held a calming influence that had the power to still his restless heart.
“May I join you, ladies?” He inquired, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Of course, dear,” Aunt Marjorie replied, her voice rich with affection.
Settling down into the plush armchair, he accepted the cup of tea offered by Annabelle. Her fingers brushed against his in the exchange, sending a comforting warmth coursing through him. He allowed the conversation to envelop him, their excited chatter about table arrangements, guest lists, and floral decorations swirling around him like a buoyant melody.
Sensing his unease, Marjorie reached out to pat his hand. Her touch was as comforting as her presence, a strong anchor in the midst of his emotional storm.
“Adrian, dear, you needn't worry,” she said. “Annabelle and I have been planning meticulously. Your wedding will be as wonderful as possible.”
His gaze shifted toward her, the sincerity radiating to him in her eyes dispelling a fraction of his anxiety. He was acutely aware of the relief that her words brought.
“Aunt Marjorie, I can't express how much your support means to me,” he said.
Her answering smile was apparent in her voice, like a ray of sunshine, warming his heart.
“And it will always be there, dear,” she said.
His eyes flickered toward Annabelle, her radiant presence thawing the lingering tension within him. Her unwavering belief in their future, her tranquil grace amidst the chaos, filled him with gratitude. It was her trust in him, her unspoken promise of companionship, that kept him steady amidst the tides of uncertainty.
“Thank you, Aunt Marjorie,” he murmured, his voice laced with emotion. His fingers tightened around the cup, the smooth porcelain a stark contrast to the turmoil of his thoughts.
His heart was a battleground of emotion, gratitude and relief warring with the remnants of unease. Despite the assurances, despite the evident progress in the preparations, a sliver of uncertainty clung to him like a stubborn shadow. It was the fear of the unknown, the fear of stepping into uncharted territory.
He took a sip of his tea, the warmth spreading through him, much like the warmth of the company he was in. There was comfort here, in this room, with these people who loved him. It made him believe that perhaps, despite his fears, everything would indeed turn out to be just as wonderful as they promised.
Their conversation flowed as freely as the tea in their cups, the cozy atmosphere of the room punctuated with bursts of laughter and shared anecdotes. And then, as if on a whispered promise of the summer breeze, Annabelle mentioned the upcoming village summer fair. Her eyes danced with an unspoken excitement, her voice carrying a note of anticipation that was impossible to miss.
