Page 47 of ?n Arranged Betrothal with a Blind Duke
In the echo of Cynthia's words, an uncomfortable silence spread around their circle. The usually jovial assembly seemed to hold its collective breath, waiting for the discomfort to pass. Adrian felt the urge to dispel the tension, to bring back the mirthful spirit that had been momentarily stifled.
An urge to protect Annabelle from the veiled barbs hidden behind polite conversation also welled up within him. A resolve began to form within him, a silent promise to shield his betrothed from the unnecessary trials and tribulations of society gossip. After all, their love was a delicate bloom, one that needed nurturing and protection, and not the fuel for idle chatter and haughty comments.
“We would ask you to join us, but we were just getting ready to see the rest of the fair,” he said, giving a pointed look at Henry.
His friend didn’t miss a beat. He cleared his throat and shifted to look up at the snide women.
“We certainly are,” he said. “We do hate to be rude, but I’m sure you understand.”
The women sniffed, and Adrian took a small satisfaction in the looks he imagined were on their faces now.
“Of course,” Lady Sophia said coldly. “Good day to you all.”
As Cynthia and Sophia glided away from their little congregation, their departure left behind a stifling silence. The once jovial atmosphere had been considerably dampened by their unsavory visit, like a cloud obscuring the sun on a warm summer's day. The remaining friends exchanged uncomfortable glances, their smiles strained as they sought to regain the lost merriment.
Adrian stared into his half-empty glass, the lemonade swirling aimlessly, much like his thoughts. In the wake of their departure, he was acutely aware of his insecurities rearing their unsightly heads. He was a man of prestige, of title, and yet, he wished he could offer Annabelle more.
He wanted to be a man of substance, a man worthy of her love, not just someone who could offer her protection under his name. He desired to overcome the darkness that clouded his world, to be a beacon of light for her. His heart ached with the need to prove himself, to validate the faith she had placed in him. Yet, he couldn't shake off the persistent shadow of self-doubt that threatened to drown him.
Just as his thoughts threatened to spiral, he felt a light squeeze on his arm. He looked down to see Annabelle's delicate fingers resting there, a silent reassurance. Her touch was as soft as a whisper, but it held a power that echoed through his being. His gaze met hers and in her eyes, he felt an unwavering warmth and belief, a silent affirmation of her trust in him.
“That was amazing,” she said, letting slip a tentative giggle. “You should have seen the expressions on their faces.”
Adrian grinned. As much as he hated not seeing it himself, hearing the pleasure Annabelle took in it made it well worth it to him.
His breath hitched, the grip of his insecurities loosening. As her fingers lingered on his arm, he realized that while his world may lack the light he desired, it was filled with the warmth of her friendship, her faith in him. His heart swelled with an emotion so profound it left him breathless. The depth of her understanding, her acceptance of him, quirks and all, was a solace he hadn't known he needed.
“Splendid,” he said, lifting his chin. “I daresay we do not require the interference of such prying meddlers on our delightful day.”
Chapter Twenty-two
The morning sun hung low in the sky as the carriage trundled along the country lane, the chitter of sparrows filling the air with a lively chorus. After the nerve-racking day at the fair the previous day, she had expected to be a wreck going back. But she had slept surprisingly well, having been able to avoid her uncle when she returned the evening before, as he had once again passed out in his parlor. And she was excited to attend the fair once more and witness Henry’s horse riding event, especially since it meant another day with Adrian. She had had Sarah dress her quickly, and she was anxiously waiting when Marjorie and Adrian arrived to retrieve her, as they had the day before.
Through the window, Annabelle watched the rolling green fields give way to the quaint thatch-roofed cottages of the village. Fluttering pennants announced the much-anticipated summer fair, a wash of color against the otherwise tranquil pastoral scene. But as Annabelle turned to share her excitement with her fiancé, Adrian, she was met with his steely silence and the sight of his far-off gaze.
Adrian’s usual lively spirit was replaced with a stillness that didn’t quite suit him. He sat opposite her, his forehead creased as he stared intently out of the opposite window, his usually vibrant green eyes clouded with distant thoughts. His silence was uncharacteristic and unnerving, stirring a swell of worry in her chest.
“Adrian?” she ventured, her voice barely more than a whisper, drowned out by the clamour of the carriage wheels against the cobbled lane. His eyes shifted to meet hers, but his gaze felt hollow, causing a knot of unease to tighten within her. “I hope you’re looking forward to the competition today.” She felt a desperate need to draw him out, to fill the silence that was rapidly growing oppressive. She longed for the playful teasing, the warm smiles, and the quick-witted charm that were so inherently Adrian. His silence was disconcerting; it stirred in her a sense of dread she had been trying hard to ignore.
“I am,” he replied. His voice held no trace of his usual enthusiasm, and his response did little to quell her anxiety. It was too curt, too indifferent—unlike the Adrian she knew. The Adrian she loved.
A chill gripped her heart as a dreadful thought surfaced, a thought she had been battling since the change in Adrian's demeanor. Was he having second thoughts about their impending nuptials? Was he regretting his proposal?
No, she chastised herself silently, forcing the unwelcome thoughts away. It was most probably wedding nerves, she reasoned, attempting to stifle the rising panic. She reminded herself that Adrian always seemed to genuinely enjoy her company, drawing comfort from the memory of his tender gaze, his unwavering assurance. Adrian was a man of his word, and she needed to trust him, trust in their growing friendship.
Striving to shift her mind from the troubling thoughts, she turned her attention back to the passing scenery. The village was abuzz with activity now. Stalls with colorful trinkets, games, and sweets lined the narrow streets. Children ran about, their laughter mingling with the lively chatter of the villagers, their faces aglow with excitement and anticipation. Yet, in the midst of this cheerfulness, her heart felt strangely heavy.
“Annabelle?” Adrian’s voice broke through her reverie, a glimmer of his former self resonating within the syllables of her name.
“Yes, Adrian?” she responded, trying to suppress the eagerness in her voice.
“I hope…” He trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air between them like a fragile thread. He finally turned to meet her eyes, his own filled with a turmoil she couldn’t quite comprehend. “I hope you enjoy today,” he finished, his voice as soft as a summer's breeze. There was a trace of his usual smile on his lips, and his eyes were kind as ever.
With his words, an unfamiliar tension seemed to lift, leaving in its wake a renewed hope. Annabelle reached across the carriage to take his hand, offering a gentle squeeze.
“I believe that we’ll enjoy it together,” she reassured him, hoping that her words would bring some comfort to his troubled mind.
As the carriage slowed to a halt, the village fair bursting into life around them, she silently pledged to herself to understand the cause of Adrian's disquiet. After all, love was not merely about sharing the joys, but facing the fears as well - together. She would stand by Adrian through this mysterious turmoil, for in her heart, she knew they were stronger together.
