My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 142: Flower Picking

Chapter 142: Flower Picking

A new sense of normalcy.

Secrets no longer hanging over their heads fostered a more comfortable environment in which Desmond and Leonor thrived.

As much as the duchess wanted to push his buttons and test the bounds of their new relationship, she was holding back a lot for his sake.

While they were more comfortable than before, he still had walls she was trying to scale.

So far, he hadn’t been willing to remove his hood except for the time she touched his scars in the garden.

That night was progress enough. She swore to be patient even though his closeness made her want far more.

Considering he was still a bit stiff around her, she had to appreciate just how much he cared for her to value her opinion. It was all she had until he allowed her to go further.

However, Leonor didn’t feel she should stop pursuing him just because he was shy. Each morning she was put into dresses she found suited his simpler tastes and flattered the figure she had grown into.

Since he was no longer hiding his gaze from her, she knew what caught his eye and what didn’t.

He seemed to prefer red and pink on her. He was pleased each time her hair was down down and loose. Most importantly, the off-the-shoulder style of dresses seemed to disarm him.

Even if he wanted to resist, he would have to notice her one way or another.

While she was waiting for his affection, she wanted to get under his skin and make for a more convincing argument. It seemed to work each time they ate dinner and he asked for a bit more time in the form of a walk.

The summer gardens were beautiful and flowers thrived for much longer in Montclair than they did in Burien where that time of year was unbelievably hot. Occasionally Leonor would clip a few flowers to make herself a bouquet and Desmond took his role of helping her pick colors to fit her mood seriously.

On that particular day, Leonor felt like white and greenery.

Since he didn’t hold her hand, Leonor kept the flowers in her hand to make up for it.

"There is more progress on finding you someone to help you adjust to life as a duchess," Desmond explained quietly.

"How old is she?" Leonor asked, half joking.

Considering those qualified to teach her anything about what the role of duchess entailed were practically living fossils, she didn’t have high hopes for someone young and energetic to listen to. If nothing else, she would learn how to focus a lot better if it was someone dull to be around.

"I’m not entirely sure of her age," Desmond admitted. "Her name is Lady Alma Marquette."

In the months Leonor had been filling her head with dense information, there was one name that stuck out.

"Any relation to the former duchess?" she asked. "That family name sounds familiar."

Desmond nodded.

"Aunt of the late duchess," he said. "Although the youngest of her siblings meaning she was only a few years older than her niece, the late duchess."

"Have you met her before?" Leonor asked.

Desmond nodded.

"Only briefly in the capital," he admitted. "She’s of the few old nobles left who, fortunately, find it unbecoming to respond to anything too strongly. So far, my appearance remains out of the things she enjoys talking about."

"As long as she knows I won’t put up with anything but politeness towards you," Leonor uttered. The duke cracked a smile.

The smile was returned, though there was a tinge of regret within the duke.

Desmond still hadn’t confessed to Leonor that he heard everything from the day she defended him at the tea house. It was a fond memory to him and a big reason his heart turned towards her more. He felt he couldn’t admit to her that he followed her around in case anyone tried to approach her.

While naturally a jealous person, Desmond didn’t know if Leonor would take very kindly to his acting like that.

When Leonor was satisfied with her green and white bouquet, she held all of the flowers in one hand and left the other hand free. The move was an obvious attempt to get Desmond to acknowledge her more than by being at her side.

When she felt a hand slide against hers and his large finger’s lace with hers, butterflies erupted in Leonor’s heart.

She grinned up at the man who elicited such a response from her.

There was a strange pause and Leonor realized Desmond was trying to come up with something to say.

He had been thinking about it for quite some time but he finally approached her with what he was thinking about when anyone allowed his brain to wander.

"There’s a place I want to show you," Desmond finally said.

Leonor’s dark eyebrow arched in curiosity. Her heart continued beating quickly in her chest. It felt like a date — one almost as nerve-wracking as the one when they had a proper dinner together on the balcony at around the same time the year before.

Leonor was excited.

"What sort of place?" Leonor asked.

"Someplace on the other side of the mountains," he explained. "Although we’ll have to leave in the morning so you can see it at the most beautiful time of day."

"Whatever you want to do," Leonor said. "If you think I will enjoy it, I most likely will."

She wanted to lay it on thicker and say that anywhere she could go with him was enjoyable for her but he already seemed to have to muster up the courage to ask her something as simple as going on a day trip with him.

Whenever he was timid, despite being unmoved in every other aspect of his life, Leonor thought fondly to when he thought she was sleeping and said she was harder to face than a dragon.

Since it was their evening walk after dinner, Desmond, as usual, led a disappointed Leonor back to her room.

She longed for a day they would share a bed. Even if they did nothing more than slept, she craved having someone by her side.

The duke walked her back to her room but was caught before he could leave.

Leonor stepped close to him and he remained rigid.

Considering he was unnerved, all she did was reach out and touch his cheek.

"Sleep well," Leonor said. "I will be up early. I can never sleep properly when there’s an adventure to go on."

As he sometimes did, Desmond couldn’t resist responding to her affection and his arms encircled her until his hands were on her back.

Each time she placed a hand on him, a glimmer of hope returned. The future seemed less bleak. Perhaps he would one day have the courage to pursue more with the woman.