My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 161: Too Sensitive

Chapter 161: Too Sensitive

While Desmond had always regarded Leonor as someone he desired from the very beginning, there was something about hearing her confess to Lady Alma that they had a vibrant life behind closed doors that ignited something within him.

Perhaps his behavior from the night before was an indication of what he had been brewing. The second an opportunity presented itself to him, he forgot how to control himself.

He had been dying to tell Leonor that he overheard what she said and he was interested in exploring whether or not there was meaning behind the words.

"On the eve of Lady Alma’s last day in our home, I happened to be passing by a sitting room when I heard her shamelessly ask whether or not we would be blessing Montclair with an heir," Desmond admitted.

He didn’t need to say anymore.

Leonor gasped in horror, and, yet again, her hands were over her open mouth as she stared at Desmond. She knew immediately what she had said.

At the time, the only way to get Lady Alma to give her a bit of grace was to answer the question in a way where she wouldn’t need any more details and Leonor could move on.

He tightened his arms around her, not allowing her to leave even though she was embarrassed.

"Then you heard..." she uttered.

"I heard you tell her that the two of us were trying to bless the dukedom with a successor," he said. "While I understand why you told her such a thing, I can’t help wondering if there is any bit of yourself that wishes we had that sort of relationship."

The words he said out of his already raw throat were embarrassing enough that even he had to angle his face away from hers. He opted to lean into her and his breath tickled what was revealed above the neckline of her dress.

It wasn’t as if he had never breathed on her before and there weren’t many other times he had held her in such a way. However, after the night before, it was like her entire body was raw. It was dealing with feelings and sensations she wasn’t used to having.

While she was certain the night before, she had become timid.

She noticed his grasp on her becoming tighter. Her heart started racing more quickly.

"Where did the determination from the night before go?" he whispered. "Now you’re acting more like yourself when I first met you."

She pressed on his shoulders.

"I feel too sensitive," she whispered.

The closer the duke’s lips got to her throat, the more she knew she would likely fold and do whatever he wanted.

Only a few minutes before he had tested her trust in him yet again and she felt hurt. Yet she found herself falling in another direction with the persuasion of touch.

Luckily, he wasn’t so overbearing that he wouldn’t stop while she was asking.

His grip on her loosened.

Leonor slipped from his grasp and had to move herself to the seat across from him. She couldn’t trust herself to be close to him without getting distracted.

"I feel nothing has been resolved," she admitted. "I still don’t know if I should accept His Majesty’s offer."

Desmond knew it was time for him to be appropriate when she was worried about something so serious. He straightened out the light shirt he wore and sat up straight.

"You don’t have to answer now," Desmond said. "Give yourself a grace period. Write Stephano a letter later on even if Quinn has already left. Such a serious offer deserves more consideration."

"You’re right," she conceded for the time being.

Leonor’s throat felt dry and she moistened it with the tea on the table which had ran cold. It gave her a moment to consider her next words, but Desmond’s comforting gaze made her feel she could press on.

"Your heir..." she trailed off. "What is he like?"

"In Eirenguard his name was Eamon, but Stephano thought it would be more suitable to call him Leo while he lives amongst commoners," Desmond explained. "As of right now, it’s hard to say exactly what he’s like. He’s merely three years old."

Leonor’s eyes widened and she had a realization.

"He’s so young," she said. "Could he be the reason for your interest in the orphanage? It’s much nicer than any other one I’ve ever seen."

Desmond nodded.

"The only way to learn lessons and gain strength isn’t simply through struggle," Desmond admitted. "He lost his home and status already. There will be plenty for him to learn."

The duchess nodded, slowly taking in the information.

"What does he look like?" Leonor asked.

"He has red eyes and blonde hair," Desmond explained. "He will be trained in the Eirenguardian style of sword fighting when he’s old enough. Each time I have to receive enchantment magic for my eyes, I have a mage visit him as well."

Leonor uttered a sound of understanding.

A child with Desmond’s hair and eye color. The combination was so beautiful but lost to time. She was tempted to ask if she could see him, but she felt strange about the entire situation.

"What is the reason for hiding your eye color?" she asked.

"For your father not to recognize me and so the nobles believe I’m from Castille rather than the truth," he explained. "The previous Montclairs had green eyes and it makes me easier to digest."

"That was one of the reasons I didn’t believe it was you," she admitted. "I was unaware that someone could simply change their eye color with magic. Whoever does it must be very precise."

Desmond noticed her voice become colder.

"Does the situation with Leo bother you?" he asked, genuinely concerned. "I regret that this is a decision we couldn’t make together."

"It stings," Leonor admitted. "Although I suppose I should be happy that I don’t have to risk my body the way my mother did."

She was trying hard to find a silver lining. If she never had children it wouldn’t be such a bad thing that she never passed on her father’s genetics. He would certainly find a way in if she ever had more than one son.

Although it was a shame she would never pass on her mother’s magic genes. She pushed the thought to the side as Desmond kept speaking.

"When I said who I wanted to marry, the people loyal to Montclair looked into your background to try and pick apart my decision," Desmond explained. "Your mother’s death records and a bit of her medical history made me certain I chose correctly. I never want you to go through what she went through."

Leonor bit the inside of her cheek as she fell into thought. Wasn’t risk what life was for? Didn’t Valerio himself tell her to appreciate the spontaneity of life? She was the one who worked hard to appreciate that mindset. The very man was sitting in front of her saying he preferred she didn’t roll the dice in such a way.

However, what Leonor didn’t know was what killed her mother was a stillbirth within a year of two different miscarriages. Leonor remembered that period but had no details. Countess Jara was bedridden from blood loss and inconsolable before she went completely quiet at the beginning of her final pregnancy.

She was forced to stay in bed by the count so she wouldn’t risk their final chance at a male heir.

When the precious boy was born grey and lifeless, Countess Jara instilled every last bit of her healing mana into the child but it was to no avail. She died shortly after that.

Leonor was spared much of the details, it seemed. Desmond preferred it that way.

Deciding there wasn’t anything else Leonor could do other than fall deep into thought, she decided to call in a distraction. She had used Quinn for that purpose before. He helped distract her when her life became too much to sit there and think about.

"Shall we tell Quinn the lack of decision I’ve come to?" Leonor asked with a small smile when silence fell over them.

"I believe that’s for the best," Desmond said.