My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 242: The Freedom of Privacy

Chapter 242: The Freedom of Privacy

A momentary childish feeling of giggling as she ran hand in hand with someone she had a crush on.

Leonor never got to experience something so pure as a child but, as she sped through long hallways with the love of her life in tow, she felt that bubbling feeling. It only escaped in the form of light laughs.

Finally, they were free to roam through a place that wasn’t someone else’s. Even though it certainly wasn’t theirs, there was more freedom knowing a noble wouldn’t be around a curve or they had to keep up a proper facade that became exhausting after only a couple of hours of use.

Leonor was proud of Desmond’s behavior in front of well-trained nobles despite having grown up in much of the opposite environment. He must have worked hard to perfect his mannerisms and way of speaking in the time they were apart. It certainly had to do with his growing up but he worked hard to make himself a duke, nonetheless.

However, after walking down a couple of hallways, they realized they were lost. Each room was too small for a queen or simply not a bedroom and they knew they were in the wrong place. The servants would have unloaded their trunks into the wardrobes considering the likely long nature of their trip.

There were endless rooms to look through and endless wall adornments and art pieces on singular pedestals or shelves that lined the hallways. Despite the sheer amount of artwork, the place was so expansive it didn’t seem crowded and each was displayed beautifully in a way that complimented each piece.

Deciding to walk back down the stairs they had gone up, they found one of the maids they were familiar with tending to a few things in the kitchen. Leonor was the only one who appeared in the doorway as Desmond remained outside, peering through one of the hallway’s windows and towards the privacy wall behind the property.

"Diana," Leonor called. "Where is the bedroom we will be staying in?"

"Ah, your grace!" the maid exclaimed and nearly dropped the bowl she was moving from one place to the other.

"Forgive me for startling you," Leonor said with a light laugh.

"The Queen’s chambers are on the second floor at the end of the northern wing," she replied. "It takes up much of that floor, boasting windows on practically all sides. You can’t miss it."

"Thank you," Leonor said.

"My pleasure, your grace."

Diana had thought Leonor was alone, but she extended a hand towards the hall.

"Shall we?" the duchess asked.

The forest green sleeve of the duke appeared and pulled his wife in the direction they had just come from. It was time to go up the stairs once more.

They had been too lighthearted in looking for the Queen’s door, it seemed. When they went to the end of the hallway they had gone to previously but knew it was the correct place that time, they were vexed.

There was a great collage boasting various large canvases and paintings of nature mixed with views of cities, devoid of any people. The Queen had an eclectic taste in art compared to other nobles because the pieces hung up in her palace weren’t portraits of important figures.

Most noble families kept paintings of relevant founders of their family or even a king to show an outpouring of support.

Leonor thought of turning around, wondering if the maid had mistaken the wing, but Desmond interrupted her thoughts as she looked at a grey and blue painting of the sea.

"Leonor, here," he said.

She turned in time to see him touch an actual painting, though she found that within the three-dimensional painting was a doorknob concealed by texture and dark colors. It also purposefully seemed to be away from the light of the candles, unlike other places in that hallway.

He turned it with ease and they were subjected to a room already warmed up and candlelit for them to enjoy the rest of their night.

Leonor thought the place was truly befitting of a Queen.

The general theme of the room was an off-white cream and patterns of wild roses decorated almost every surface. The bedding, curtains, and some of the paintings showed pale pink wild roses in natural settings. Unlike a more modern red rose with a multitude of petals, the wild roses seemed to fit the Queen Leonor had heard about.

The duchess respected that, because there was no outside influence in her decor choices, she did whatever she wanted and the result was an over-the-top room with cream white, and pink colors throughout the whole thing.

However, it didn’t come off as gaudy to Leonor. Even though down to the white armoires and white painted wood of the bedframe bordered with gold and satin material that hung over the four-poster bed, there was a sense of freedom in that room.

If the woman didn’t have it in her life, it seemed she expressed her desire through decor.

The duchess looked across the light wooden floor covered with a soft rug that stretched from the bed to the comfortable couch next to the fireplace. It must have taken years to weave such an amazing rug with subtle flowers and cream colors of different textures and shades.

Leonor wondered if the view of the garden in spring would show off more wild roses. It was to be determined by what she saw out the window when there was sunlight.

As she walked around, it was clear that the room was ready for them to settle into. It was obvious their staff was the one who did it and Leonor had never been more grateful for help. If she was cold and tired in the Academy, she would likely have to tend to things herself.

Without having to be asked, the blankets in their bed were turned down, a hot bath had been started for them and, as Leonor discovered when she went to one of the many armoires, she found her dresses.

Never before had she cared for her clothes much but since Desmond was the one who had given her everything, she cherished them.

Before she could turn to the room, she felt her husband’s hands on her back as he made her face him and began helping her out of the dress.

"There’s a bath waiting for us," he said. "I don’t want it to get cold. Your hands are icicles from being outside."