My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 198: Her Relationship With Respect

Chapter 198: Her Relationship With Respect

Anxiety ate at Leonor the morning before Desmond was meant to go off with the marquess and, before they could get their clothing on for the day, Leonor clung to Desmond.

A few times, he had tried to stand up to get dressed, but each time, Leonor would put more weight on top of him.

While the duke didn’t mind when his wife clung to him, he didn’t want to be seen as rude by the guest who so graciously trapped them in his estate and forced them to enjoy themselves rather than focusing on work as usual.

However, he could read Leonor like a book. As she got ready to go see Marchioness Letizia, she returned to him in phases, as if she couldn’t stray for too long. His touch was keeping her grounded.

"Are you feeling nervous?" he asked.

"After yesterday, I’m petrified to find what’s under the surface of this couple," Leonor admitted. "While I know she will be avaluable source of information for getting to know Montclair and the capital, I’m terrified that I’m biting off more than I can chew."

Desmond carefully brushed his fingers over her hair, being sure not to ruin what Beth had done that day. Even though Leonor was only wearing underclothes, her hair and face were put together so nicely.

"You have good judgment," Desmond reminded her. "Not only academically but you can see when someone is struggling and ease their worries. Perhaps presenting yourself as someone she can lean on since you don’t have many connections in Montclair will benefit you."

Desmond placed his hands on her waist.

"Keep in mind that you hold a higher station than her," he reminded her. "She may reveal a lot but she must be respectful even if you’re younger than she is."

That was always his worry whenever Leonor was exposed to other aristocrats. She was far too kind and didn’t defend herself most of the time.

Leonor gazed at him, finding his words magnetizing and daring to lean into him further. Often the medals he wore when he was particularly decorated would snag onto her cotton chemise.

It was worth the risk to feel his warmth one last time.

"I’ll try to make you proud of me as the duchess," she responded and reached forward so she could put a hand on his cheek.

"I’m never not proud of you," Desmond reminded her. "I’m simply worried that you don’t get the respect you deserve if I’m not there to demand it."

"I’ll keep your words in mind," Leonor said. "They’ll help me remember who I am."

She let out a light sigh and straightened herself out.

"Then I ought to get dressed," she continued. "Would you mind calling Beth in here once more?"

Desmond shook his head.

"I’ll help you," he insisted.

On a stand was a beautiful emerald gown that went up to Leonor’s neck and boasted wide sleeves that fitted at the wrists to remain warm. The outer piece was easy to remove though in case she was put in an environment too warm and that was a real risk at the Martin’s home.

The skirts were full and equally as emerald and elegant as the rest. She would wear gold earrings with bright red rubies to bring everything together. Her hair had been pinned back so the jewelry wouldn’t be hidden by her naturally thick hair.

Desmond helped her put on her corset, mourning the loss of the soft body he preferred and the curves of her waist and bust that his hands fit in and around so perfectly. He also helped her into the dress, hiding her olive skin for only him to see.

Since they had been indoors as it got colder, she was losing the golden tan color leaving behind a pale olive that matched the dress perfectly. Even without sunkissed skin, she was still quite a bit darker than he was.

In order to calm himself, his hands left her body when she was finally dressed and he reminded himself that he would be able to touch her later in the day.

They left one another with a "see you later" and Desmond found a marquess having just walked into his dining hall to get a quick breakfast. It seemed they were late risers around that house but it made it so Desmond didn’t seem rude for taking so long with his wife that morning.

Even Leonor arrived before Marchioness Letizia could make an appearance. The older woman appeared just as the husbands started to leave for their outing.

After breakfast, Letizia turned to Leonor.

"I believe it’s our turn to head out, wouldn’t you think, your grace?" she asked.

Leonor’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Where would you like to go, my lady?" she asked.

"We must go downtown to the apothecary," Letizia explained. "They have a treatment for hair that leaves it smelling like honey and softer than you can ever imagine in your life. After that I believe we should attend salon and drink tea with a few other ladies. I understand that you’re a well-educated woman so this sort of setting may be suitable for you."

"Yes, I do love reading," Leonor admitted. "I studied in Magia for–"

However, in her excitement, Letizia kept going, not meaning to interrupt the duchess.

"And the gossip these places are privy to," the marchioness gushed. "If you’re searching for information, this is the place to go. Many drink tea, but wine is always passed around if I’m there. I have quite the tolerance but it’s a useful tool. Shall we, your grace?"

Her words came out so quickly, Leonor felt she didn’t have any argument. She tried to remind herself to not be spineless in front of the other woman. Already she had been interrupted but she decided to look past it for the time being.

How she treated her in front of the other women was what mattered, at least that’s what she told herself so she could feel she was upholding her end of the deal for Desmond. She didn’t want him to worry about her seeming like a weak duchess when he was anything but weak.

Before another word could be said, they were off to the town, in an opposite direction and at a more leisure pace than the men who left shortly before on horseback.