My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 123: Pride

Chapter 123: Pride

Leonor didn’t know if she took more than three breaths for the entire sword fight.

As the men seemed to dance around one another, pulling decisive jabs that seemed barely blocked each time, Leonor’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the stone wall and stood in front of her chair.

She could feel herself trembling but it wasn’t because of the temperature. She was horrified at the thought of her husband being gravely hurt.

It had occurred to her many times that Desmond was all she had in that world. Her father wouldn’t take her back if she, for any reason, lost the title of duchess.

Even if Stephano let her in during an emergency, she knew that palace life would be stifling for her. She would rather join a nunnery than be put in those conditions.

He gave her the most protection and care. His gentle nature was the reason her heart started turning towards him. To see a sword being jabbed at him was horrifying.

While Leonor leaned into the wall, Stephano noticed Leonor was about to lose composure. He got up from his chair and joined the duchess at the wall. He placed his hand on her shoulder, knowing it couldn’t be easy to see someone she cared for in such a state.

For a moment, Stephano thought it was lucky Leonor wasn’t knowledgeable in the ways of sword fighting.

Desmond’s posture, movements, and even the way the blade was forged pointed toward the Eirenguardian style. Since she had little knowledge of it, Desmond was lucky to hold onto his secret for a little longer.

Leonor’s worrying made Stephano not want to hold back the secrets any longer. With each gasp that escaped her, he was pushed further and further into ruining Desmond’s life as he knew it.

There was a final jab from Desmond and Stephano knew instantly that the duke had found the upper hand despite the odds against him. Considering he could have taken the opportunity to stab the man, Stephano thought it was a generous way to end the fight. He could have easily made it so the man couldn’t fight any longer but he chose the high road.

"You’re far more generous than I," Stephano uttered to Desmond who couldn’t hear him.

He would have used that opportunity to vent his frustrations. Perhaps that was the beauty of being a royal. No one would have anything to say if he made that decision.

Since Desmond was a duke born of commoner blood, according to anyone’s knowledge, he would have suffered more consequences.

"Have you seen enough?" Desmond yelled to the crowd.

A smirk graced Stephano’s lips while Leonor hung her head, finally being able to breathe properly.

However, the moment the duke raised his arm, Leonor happened to lift her head back up.

A cry escaped her lips and, before Stephano could fully grasp the situation in front of him, the lady lifted her skirts and ran towards the back of their sitting area and to the stairs. It seems she was insistent on getting to Desmond.

The king decided to follow her and offer support where he could.

The stairs and hallways felt like a maze to Leonor as she ran through the innards of the arena. It felt like an eon even though it was a mere couple of minutes.

The spectacle on the arena floor was far too great for anyone to be underneath and she was grateful not to see anyone as she ran as fast as the structured dress she wore would let her.

A guard tried to stop her as she ran through the door that would lead to the dirt-floored arena, but he saw it was the duchess followed by the king and decided he ought to step back. Considering what he witnessed, it was best to let a wife seek out her husband in that situation.

Desmond had re-sheathed his sword and replaced the cloak over his head by that time and he crossed his arms as the audience cheered. Yet they also cast looks of horror.

There was searing, familiar pain in his armpit and he knew precisely what happened, though he refused to react considering it was his pride that carried him into the arena that day. He could have easily turned down the challenge, but he wanted Leonor to believe he was strong.

His eyes went to where he sat before and he wanted to search for Leonor’s reaction, but she was nowhere to be found. He searched for the king as well but he had disappeared as well.

His disappointment was heavy. He hadn’t looked in that direction the entire match because he was terrified of losing focus if she reacted in any specific way. Had she missed his fight? Did she care that he did it for her?

And for Stephano to be missing as well...

Desmond was about to leave and clean himself up to sit through the rest of the matches, but he was met with his wife and the king running through the arena’s entrance.

Leonor’s chest was heaving and she carried her skirts so she wouldn’t trip over them while she moved quickly.

He wanted to see her proud but she had a horrified look on her face as she approached him.

"Desmond," she practically whispered. "You’re bleeding."

"I’ll have someone wrap it so we can sit through the matches," Desmond said, resisting her concern.

Leonor’s eyebrows lowered but she didn’t know how to speak against him. She turned to Stephano for support as he approached the couple.

"Your grace," the king began.

Realizing that there were many interested at the spectacle, he gave a tight lipped frown but when he turned towards the stands, he gave a light smile and a wave.

"Quite amazing, isn’t it? Would anyone else like to doubt my decision to make this man duke?" Stephano spoke loudly, making sure most could hear his words. "Or shall we move past the lèse-majesté without harm?"

He referred to an ancient law that his father abused. In ancient language, it was called "injured majesty" where people would doubt the words of a monarch and be put to death. His words were meant as a threat and it seemed many were taking it that way.

Satisfied with the response, Stephano shouted, "Let the matches continue."

When the three were underneath the arena once more, Stephano’s frown returned and his hazel eyes met Desmond.

"Getting that wrapped will not be enough," Stephano said. "You need healing. At least return home and lay down."

Desmond scowled at the monarch.

"I’m not in the business of looking weak in front of my duchy," Desmond shot back. "You hear how they doubted me."

"The match was more than enough to ease worries," Stephano snapped under his breath. "Please recall what happened in Letum each time your arm healed badly."

The way Desmond sighed through his nose and frowned, Leonor knew it must have been serious. She couldn’t begin to guess the horrors of his arm healing wrong and them having to cut and heal again so he wouldn’t lose his range of motion completely.

The only thing that convinced Desmond to go back to his estate was Leonor grasping his hand.

"Desmond, please..." she whispered.

At that moment, he knew she shouldered his feelings. For him to be in pain meant she would be as well.

They left shortly after.