Page 48 of ?n Arranged Betrothal with a Blind Duke
As their carriage came to a stop, the world outside brimmed with vibrancy and laughter. It was a scene right out of a watercolor, alive with motion and filled with the murmur of countless conversations. The fair was in full swing, an intoxicating blend of colors and sounds that made Annabelle's heart flutter with excitement.
They had barely stepped down from their carriage when a familiar voice rang through the air.
“Annabelle! Adrian!” called Penelope, her honeyed curls bouncing as she hurried towards them, her face alight with a warm welcome. Behind her, her parents, the esteemed Mr. and Mrs. Brown, trailed at a more leisurely pace, their faces wreathed in smiles.
“Good morning, Annabelle,” Mrs. Brown said, curtseying to her.
Annabelle returned the greeting, smiling warmly at the parents of her dearest friend.
“I believe you remember my fiancé, the Duke of Thornwood,” she said, blushing as she spoke the words.
Mr. Brown stepped forward, bowing politely before offering his hand. Annabelle gently helped Adrian take it, and the duke beamed at Mr. Brown.
“It is a pleasure to formally meet you,” he said, turning to smile at Penelope’s mother. “The pie yesterday was just divine.”
Mrs. Brown smiled sweetly, curtseying again.
“You are very kind,” she said. “I’m delighted that you enjoyed it.”
With her friend’s arrival, Annabelle's spirits lifted. Penelope's energetic chatter filled the air, a comforting contrast to Adrian's silence during their journey. In the company of her dear friend and her parents, Annabelle felt a soothing sense of normality return, brushing away her worries, if only temporarily.
Hand in hand, they wove their way through the crowd towards the racetrack, their anticipation mirrored by the eager faces of the assembled spectators. Their eyes were drawn to the majestic stallions, muscles rippling beneath gleaming coats, their breath fogging up in the morning air. Annabelle's heart pounded in sync with the rhythmic thudding of hooves against the grassy earth, the atmosphere electrified by the promise of the thrilling race to come.
It was then that Henry and his mother, Nancy Harrington, made their appearance, their beaming faces unmistakable in the crowd. Mrs. Harrington, with her magnificent plumed hat and the sparkle in her eyes, was always an undeniably striking figure. And Henry, with his infectious laugh and boundless enthusiasm, was a joy to be around. And the smile that lit up Adrian’s face flooded Annabelle with relief. The palpable energy they brought with them acted as a balm, dispelling the last vestiges of the morning's unease.
“Ho, Adrian! Annabelle!” boomed Henry, his voice carrying easily above the excited chatter. “Isn't this just the most splendid sight? Look at these fine steeds!” He gestured toward the horses, his face animated with anticipation. Annabelle couldn't help but smile at his boyish excitement, so reminiscent of the childhood she had shared with Penelope.
Next to her, she felt Adrian relax, his arm loosening around her waist as he joined in Henry’s laughter. In that moment, she saw a glimpse of the Adrian she loved - carefree and joyful, his worries momentarily forgotten. And though questions still lingered in the back of her mind, she allowed herself to bask in the temporary reprieve, deciding to seize the joyous moment that the fair had to offer.
“Let the races begin!” Henry’s mother announced grandly, her cheer echoed by the crowd. With a flutter in her heart, Annabelle turned her attention to the starting line. Today, they would set aside their worries and revel in the summer fair's excitement. The troubled waters would be navigated another day, she resolved, for the race was about to start, and life, for now, was meant to be savored.
The exhilaration of the race was a heady thing. The thunderous roar of the crowd as the horses surged past the finish line, the collective sigh as the winner was announced - all of it consumed Annabelle with an intense fervor. Yet, as the fervor began to ebb, and the crowd started to disperse, she became painfully aware of the focused gazes directed towards her.
Through the thinning crowd, she caught sight of Cynthia and Sophia, two faces she'd hoped to avoid. Their aristocratic features were set in stern expressions as they observed her with an unnerving intensity. Annabelle's heart lurched. Their gaze was intrusive, inquisitive, and it filled her with a sense of discomfort that was hard to shake off.
She had always found their scrutiny unsettling, their penetrating stares often igniting a sense of inadequacy in her. Though she was soon to marry into the same social strata, she could not help but feel the weight of their judgement. It was as though they held her worth, her place in society, in their haughty glances, and found it lacking. Or, perhaps, they simply couldn’t see what she might see in a blind duke. Did they think she intended to use him in some unspeakable way? Or were they just repelled by their relationship altogether?
Next to her, Adrian shifted, a flicker of concern darkening his eyes. She felt the comforting pressure of his fingers on her palm, his thumb tracing gentle circles, an attempt to soothe her palpable discomfort. He, too, had noticed the lingering stares and had deciphered her unease.
“Annabelle,” Adrian murmured, his voice a soft whisper just for her ears. “Are you alright?”
She forced a smile, lifting her gaze to meet his concerned one.
“Yes, Adrian. I am quite alright,” she lied, choosing to hide her distress behind a mask of serenity. She did not wish to burden him with her worries, not when he seemed to have his own demons to battle.
However, Adrian knew her too well. His eyes still held a tinge of anxiety, his fingers tightening around hers. She admired his silent strength, his unwavering support. It comforted her, even as a twinge of guilt gnawed at her. She wished she could lighten his burden as he did hers.
“Are you sure?” he asked, glancing around with his alert but largely unseeing eyes. “Has something happened to make you nervous or uncomfortable?”
Annabelle shook her head, standing close enough to her fiancé for him to pick up on the gesture.
“I promise, Adrian. I am alright,” she reassured, trying to infuse more conviction into her words. She squeezed his hand in return, a silent promise that she could stand up to the pressure, to the stares, and to the weight of expectation that hovered over them.
As the echoes of the race died down, replaced by the resurgence of festive chatter and music, Annabelle steeled herself against the critical gazes and the nagging self-doubt. She had Adrian by her side. She drew strength from his unwavering presence, knowing they would face whatever trials lay ahead together.
***
As evening fell, the candles in Marjorie's grand dining hall cast a soft, warm glow over the opulent room, the gold accents glinting in the flickering light. A banquet of delicious dishes was spread out on the long oak table, filling the air with tantalizing aromas. Laughter rang out against the polished walls, bouncing between the elaborate tapestries and fine China. The room was alight with merriment, filled with familiar faces that Annabelle held dear. They had gathered at Thornwood Manor to celebrate Henry’s racing victory.
