Page 51 of ?n Arranged Betrothal with a Blind Duke
“You look beautiful,” he said as he gave her his free arm.
Annabelle sniffed, and she brought her face close to his so he could see her a bit better. Her eyes sparkled brightly, and there was a rosy tint to her cheeks. He could also smell her rose perfume, and his heart nearly stopped.
“You look so very handsome, Adrian,” she said, sounding breathless.
Adrin grinned proudly.
“Thank you, Annabelle,” he said. “Let us get to the ball.”
The inn was alive with joyous laughter and gaiety. A merry tune played by the in-house musicians filled the air, tickling the rafters and setting toes tapping. Adrian, Annabelle, and Marjorie made their way to the refreshments stand, the latter two engaged in an animated chatter about the ball's opulence.
While Marjorie and Annabelle were engrossed in their conversation, Adrian found himself engaged in a chat with Henry. Their talk was as smooth as the brandy Adrian had in his hand, effortlessly shifting from politics to the latest trends in literature.
“You really must consider attending a play at the theater,” Henry said, patting his friend gently. “Trust me, the actors perform such wonderful renditions of Shakespeare’s plays that you don’t need to be able to see the stage. I should know. Last time I went, I ended up not getting a box, but a terrible seat behind two ladies with the tallest hair I’ve ever seen. And yet, I enjoyed it far better than I do reading his collections.”
Adrian chuckled softly. He did sometimes miss watching performers on the stage at the theater. He wondered if theater was an activity that Annabelle would like to partake in once they were married.
“I don’t see the harm in trying,” he said.
His amicable interaction with Henry was interrupted when he overheard an undercurrent of hushed tones from behind him. The unmistakable voices belonged to Cynthia and Sophia, two of society's notorious gossip-mongers.
“Why would any lady agree to marry a blind man?” Cynthia whispered. It didn’t take long for him to figure out that the women wanted to be overheard. But still, he stood perfectly still, trying to appear as though he didn’t hear a word.
“It certainly was a hasty arrangement,” Sophia said. “Doesn’t it make you wonder what the motivation could be?”
The whispered insinuations about him and his hurried betrothal to Annabelle twisted his gut. His jaw tightened as the words hit him like darts. Was he being impulsive? Was it fair to Annabelle? Doubts sprouted like weeds in the garden of his mind.
His hand instinctively clenched around his glass, the cool exterior contrasting the burning anger that surged through him. He knew the malicious whispers were baseless, an idle chatter of bored socialites, but they stung, nonetheless. His gaze shifted from Henry to the crystalline contents of his glass, its amber hues mirroring his turmoil.
“Betrothed out of desperation...” another voice snickered.
“More interested in her inheritance than her heart,” said still another.
The voices were like bees buzzing around a hive, relentless, intrusive. Adrian willed himself to block them out, but they echoed in his mind, each word amplifying his insecurities.
His gaze found Annabelle, radiant and joyous, unaware of the vile whispers around them. He saw not an obligation but a woman he'd grown to admire and cherish. His heart clenched painfully at the thought of her being maligned because of him.
In the sea of glittering gowns and tailcoats, beneath the merry tunes and the joyful clatter, Adrian fought an invisible battle. It was not just a fight against society's judgments but also against his own nagging doubts. Yet, as he looked at Annabelle, her laughter cutting through his insecurities, he knew he was ready to brave the storm for her. After all, love demanded courage, and Adrian was not one to shy away from a challenge.
The rumors whispered by Cynthia and Sophia filled Adrian's mind, pulsating like a second heartbeat. A growing wave of protectiveness washed over him, a fierce instinct that dwarfed his own insecurities. It was accompanied by a burgeoning affection for Annabelle, a feeling that was no longer just an echo in his heart but a full-blown symphony.
He decided then, amidst the laughter and music, he would not let these false rumors stand unchallenged. No, he would prove his love for Annabelle, not with words, but with actions, making his intentions clear to her and to the world.
The dance floor called to him, a colorful sea of twirling gowns and tailcoats, bustling under the golden glow of chandeliers. Although his sight limited his view, he was no stranger to the rhythm and tempo of the music, the ebb and flow of the dance. He could feel the vibrations under his feet, the melodic rise and fall like a pulsing heart beneath the polished wooden floor. He just had to pray that would be enough to get him through a dance with Annabelle.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he turned to Annabelle, who stood by his side, her arm looped through his. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum.
“Annabelle,” he began, his voice laced with an undercurrent of determination, “may I have this dance?”
He sensed her surprise, felt her turn to look at him. A moment of silence hung between them, stretching thin like a thread on the brink of breaking. Then he felt her warm hand squeeze his arm, a gesture of reassurance that fueled his courage.
“Adrian, I... of course.” Her voice was soft, gentle, and laced with a hint of uncertainty. Yet, there was a definitive yes.
The heat of a blush rose to his cheeks. He knew the murmurs this would cause. A blind man on the dance floor was unusual, indeed. However, the glimmers of apprehension in him were quickly doused by the sheer resolve to show the world his genuine affection for Annabelle.
As he guided her towards the dance floor, his heart echoed the rhythm of the music. Each beat was a reassurance, each note a balm to his insecurities. There, amidst the crowd, he held Annabelle close. He could hear the whispers already, but their tone had changed. Surprise replaced malice, and amidst the murmurs, there was a sense of respect.
As the first notes of the waltz filled the ballroom, Adrian's heart raced in tandem. Anxiety buzzed at the back of his mind, like a specter, threatening to overshadow his resolve. Each step held a potential blunder, a slip that could embarrass not just him but Annabelle as well.
