Page 46 of ?n Arranged Betrothal with a Blind Duke
“No, not at all,” he replied, summoning a smile to his lips. “It is merely that one's thoughts do tend to wander on such a splendid day.”
A sly smile crept into Henry’s voice as he spoke again.
“Or perhaps on such splendid company,” he suggested, his tone threaded with mirth.
Adrian merely raised a brow in response, unwilling to admit the depth of his feelings in such a public setting. He noted, however, the warmth that rose within him at the thought that his affection for Annabelle was so easily noticed. His heart, so long shrouded in winter's grasp, was finally thawing under the gentle sun of her regard.
“Yes, Richard,” he agreed in a tone that sought to close the topic, “the company is indeed splendid.” He paused, turning his gaze once more to Annabelle, imagining a flush rising to her cheeks under his intense scrutiny. It was a welcome vision, one that spoke of reciprocated feelings and mutual affection.
The vivacious assembly, indulging in their afternoon repast under the old oak tree, began to turn the tide of their discourse towards the upcoming horse race. It was a grand affair in the village calendar, anticipated with bated breath and a palpable enthusiasm that rivalled the grandest ball or the most intricate of soirees. A murmur of excitement shivered through the group as Henry, a known connoisseur of equine pursuits, began detailing the impressive lineage of the participating thoroughbreds.
Henry, his face alight with passion, leaned in closer to the group as he described the grace and majesty of the racehorses. His eyes, normally a soft hazel, sparkled in the sunlight, their golden flecks gleaming with excitement. Adrian noted the pure elation in Henry's voice, how it rang with an admiration that couldn't be feigned.
“There's a new horse this year, a black stallion from the north. Purebred, strong, and faster than anything I've ever seen. His rider, a known and seasoned jockey, is sure to take him to the victory post,” Henry was saying, his hands unconsciously mimicking the galloping movement of a horse.
Adrian couldn't help but smile at his friend's fervor. The world of horse racing was a labyrinth of complexities, of pedigrees, and training routines, and he had to admit he was more of an observer than an enthusiast. But Henry's passion was infectious. “It sounds like an event not to be missed, Henry,” Adrian responded, his voice steady yet laced with amusement.
Henry turned towards Adrian, the hint of a plea in his eyes.
“Promise me you'll come, Adrian? Your support would mean the world to me.”
The earnestness in Henry's voice struck a chord within Adrian. It was not often that Henry asked for anything. And even though it involved horseback riding, which was an activity that still filled Adrian with great apprehension, he couldn’t begrudge his friend such an urgent request.
“I promise, Henry,” he said, patting his friend's shoulder in assurance, “I wouldn't miss it for the world.”
As Henry's face broke into a broad grin of satisfaction, Adrian felt a warmth spread within him. His promise was not merely a word given in the spirit of friendship, but a pledge made from the depths of his heart. The horse race, once a mere event in his calendar, had now become a symbol of camaraderie, a moment in time where he could stand by his friend's side, echoing his passions and sharing his triumphs.
He glanced towards Annabelle, catching her eye across the gathering. Her smile was gentle, knowing. The shared understanding, the unspoken bond between them, reassured him once again that he was where he was meant to be, with the people who mattered most to him. Adrian realized that the horse race wasn't just an event to anticipate, but another opportunity to build lasting memories with those he held dear.
Adrian listened to his friends engage in the vibrant discussion about the upcoming horse race. As they hypothesized on the possible victors and rivalries, he felt a delightful sense of companionship. Yet amidst this mirthful chatter, his attention was frequently drawn towards a figure gracefully apart from the lively huddle, his betrothed, Annabelle.
Through the corner of his eye, he noticed her stealing secretive glances his way. Each time her gaze brushed over him, his heart did an eager pirouette in his chest, an honest admission of the power she held over him. Her presence, even in the periphery of his vision, was an enchanting spell he found himself increasingly unable to resist.
With a gentle, coy flip of her hand, she cast another glance his way. A sweet, secret smile played on her lips, the corners tilting upwards in a bewitching curve. Her rosy cheeks held an inviting warmth that beckoned him, a warmth that was irresistibly drawing him to her like a moth to a flame.
Her eyes, he knew, held a world within them. He knew they must twinkle with mirth, shine with intelligence, and sparkle with an indefinable emotion that had Adrian yearning to decipher. He wished to lean in, to hold her gaze properly, to plunge into the depths of those captivating eyes, and find therein the secrets she was so subtly insinuating.
Adrian could not help but wonder at the emotions that were brewing within her. Was it mischief that had her teasing him so? Or was it affection, a tender regard mirroring his own, that had her casting these surreptitious glances his way? A peculiar joy filled him at the thought, a happiness so profound it radiated from his very core, lending a vibrant glow to his ordinarily stoic countenance.
His heart pounded rhythmically in his chest, each beat echoing Annabelle's name. Each beat yearning for a moment alone with her, a moment where he could indulge in the intense feelings simmering within him. He was not a man given to such fervent emotions, and yet, with Annabelle, everything seemed possible. Every glance, every smile from her, hinted at a deeper connection, a love that could perhaps outshine even the grandest of passions.
Indeed, he yearned to see her, to gauge the emotions swirling in her eyes, and most importantly, to assure himself that he was not alone in this dance of affection. After all, what was a dance if not a harmonious blend of two souls moving as one, each beat, each step mirroring the others? He could only hope that the rhythm of their hearts was as harmoniously entwined as his own fervent wishes.
The joyous bubble that the group had been enjoying, full of laughter and camaraderie, was abruptly pricked by the sound of approaching footsteps on the gravel pathway. Adrian's stomach tightened in a twist of discomfort even before he saw the two ladies.
“Good day, Lady Cynthia,” his aunt said. “And to you as well, Lady Sophia.”
Marjorie's greeting indicated a strained smile fixed on her face, revealing their identities - Cynthia and Sophia. Adrian's grimace was concealed by a polite nod as he acknowledged their presence. He had heard plenty about the two women, their love for idle gossip and haughty attitudes, which served as a jarring note in the otherwise melodious afternoon. He didn’t need to guess why they would take it upon themselves to approach Adrian’s small group. They sought to sneer at the young lady who had tied herself to a blind man. He looked down, wishing the women would just leave.
The two ladies glided over, their rustling skirts stirring the quiet tranquility of the moment. Sophia’s delicate fan fluttered in the breeze, her pale blue eyes assessing their gathered company with a thinly veiled air of superiority. Cynthia, on the other hand, held herself with an air of self-assured grandeur that felt unsettlingly out of place in the laid-back atmosphere.
“Your Grace, Miss Ludlow,” Cynthia began, her voice echoing in the temporary silence that had fallen over the group. “Allow us to congratulate you on your betrothal. Quite the event of the season, it seems.”
Her words, wrapped in the guise of well-wishes, held an undercurrent of insincerity that sent an awkward chill around them. Adrian's grip tightened imperceptibly around his glass of lemonade. His lips pressed into a tight smile, acknowledging her words with a brief nod.
“Thank you,” he said curtly, allowing his own voice to adopt its own edge. They were making Annabelle uncomfortable, and while he wouldn’t make a scene, he wouldn’t let that go unnoticed.
He cast a quick glance towards Annabelle, the concern evident in his eyes. She held herself with grace, the natural elegance that was her trademark, a small smile playing on her lips as she graciously accepted Cynthia's words. There was a strength in her demeanor, an unshakeable confidence that ignited a spark of admiration within Adrian. Her resilience in the face of unwelcome company was nothing short of remarkable.
