Chapter 53: Her

On the night before Desmond was set to marry Leonor, he sat with Gideon in the main hall of his estate near the southern edge of the capital, discussing a few last-minute letters given to him before he left Montclair. They would leave for Burien early in the morning so the wedding wouldn’t be too late.

Gideon could tell how unsettled the duke was each time he uttered a word or moved one of his hands.

Because of his appearance, Gideon sometimes forgot that Desmond was a mere 23 years old.

The Duke had the seriousness of someone who lived a full life enough to be jaded and weighed down by responsibility. His words were eloquent and mannerisms were practiced. He was made for nobility despite his rocky upbringing. If anything, being in an orphanage after being born into privilege had done him well. He knew how to interact with a multitude of people. Unlike many noblemen, he had a compassionate nature.

Because of this, Gideon felt protective over the Duke. It had extended far beyond the care King Stephano had requested he take with the war hero. He wanted the best outcome possible for someone who had suffered so much.

The following morning, as Duke Desmond got into fine clothing that he would be married in later that day, he fussed in front of the mirror for far longer than he normally would.

While it wasn’t uncommon for him to wear a hood indoors due to his desire not to be gawked at, Gideon found the young duke wrapping his head and one of his hands with bandages before putting on his shirt and pulling up his hood.

His movements were rough and he seemed frustrated each time the bandage sat crooked or slipped. He huffed when he finally gave in and decided it was as good as it was going to get.

"Your Grace, isn’t that a bit of overkill?" Gideon asked, feeling it was his place to question that sort of paranoid behavior. "To wear bandages on your wedding day..."

Gideon had heard of the first time Desmond was introduced as the Duke in Coeurvalle. He traveled for two weeks with bandages on and his freshly scarred skin was riddled with sores.

"I don’t want to be seen," Desmond confessed with his gravelly voice. "I don’t want to be recognized. She doesn’t have to lay her eyes on something that will give her nightmares." With one last glance in the standing mirror, Desmond scoffed. "Never would I have believed I’d be jealous of who I was when I was younger."

The butler remained tight-lipped. They still had a journey ahead of them before Desmond could be completely unnerved.

Towards the coast, the rain picked up even more than the path there.

Desmond stared out the window, reminiscing on a time when he rescued Leonor during a rainstorm and she still had the wherewithal to be embarrassed when she clung to him while he took her back to the stables. At times, he relived that moment in his head over and over.

He mourned being able to make her nervous like that. The only thing he could hope for was not to be met with disgust.

Back then, he would have considered his outward appearance no more or less bad than others. Yet as he thought about himself, he realized how ridiculous he must have been. What he would do to have that appearance once more was tossed around in his thoughts for a moment.

The carriage eventually made it to the old church where they would be wed.

As he exited the carriage, he could have sworn he saw a flash of color in the window, but when he looked more closely, nothing was there.

His heart was pounding away in his chest. He didn’t know how he was supposed to get through the next few hours. He felt dizzy but gave no evidence of it as he walked into the church followed by his men. A frown was the easiest expression for him to hold onto.

Desmond was greeted by Count Mikael who barely managed to keep his expression in check as he stared at the Duke. The Count managed to bow his head before he could be deemed rude for staring.

They only shared a few words before it was time for the father to retrieve the bride and the Duke to take his place at the front of the church.

Duke Desmond heard the witnesses occupying the wooden pews stand up and he turned himself towards the door where an angel in light blue stepped foot into the large room. Her focus wasn’t on him, but he couldn’t take his eye off of her.

She was so different but she was certainly still his Leonor. Her wide sapphire eyes were the same but her appearance was more mature. She had a guarded expression and tried to be polite.

When she made it to the end, she seemed to hesitate to come closer to him. He couldn’t exactly blame her, but he risked her rejection by brushing his gloved hand against hers. However, he pulled back realizing he was acting too familiar.

To his shock, Leonor grabbed his hand and allowed him to take her where they were meant to be wed. She didn’t seem entirely horrified after all.

His pulse was racing in his ear for the entire ceremony and he thought it was a wonder he didn’t make a mistake. Nerves were at an all-time high when he was finally able to introduce her as Duchess de Montclair.

Desmond knew he should have waited for more congratulations, but he found himself escaping as quickly as possible. He only realized later it might make him look forward if he rushed his wife towards the house they would be staying at for their wedding night.

When they were in the carriage, he noticed Leonor shivering and he helped her to a fur sitting over one of the chairs.

After she fell asleep and he was able to cool himself off, he started to hope that perhaps she could get used to him. If he was kind enough, could she look past his ghastly appearance?

Since she fell asleep so easily, Desmond wondered if she was still having issues with her mana. She had gone to the Academy but was so easily depleted before, that he couldn’t keep himself from worrying.

However, all his confidence that she might accept him for what he was disappeared instantaneously when she woke up and flinched at the sight of him. He put out his hand so she wouldn’t fall due to the movement of the carriage.

He cursed himself and wondered how he was supposed to face her if she always looked so horrified. An apology fell from his lips.

To his surprise, she said "Please give me your hand, your grace. I apologize for reacting that way. I forgot where I was for a moment. You’ve been so kind to me..."

He had to bow his head as she took his hand, wanting to shield his face as much as possible. Though she could still see his eye, most of his face was shadowed.

His confidence was such a fleeting thing since she was finally in front of him.

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