My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 54: Wedding Night

Chapter 54: Wedding Night

The wedding night ahead weighed heavily on Leonor.

With the locket around Leonor’s slender neck, she felt better. Since she left the homecoming parade empty-handed over a year before, she clung to memories and thoughts of a future she thought she was going to have.

Her nerves from the wedding caused her to check on the flower - something she rarely did for fear that she would harm it in some way. Finding it perfectly intact, she closed her eyes and breathed out a sigh. With a nod, she convinced her tears to halt and assured herself that she could continue forward no matter how uncertain the path ahead was.

Yet the moment she heard someone knock on the door, the self-soothing she had done was all for naught. She felt small and helpless once again.

What was her defensive magic compared to someone who had survived such a perilous battle? If he decided to hurt her, she wouldn’t stand a chance.

The lighting in the room was dim enough that Leonor hoped it would hide the evidence of her crying and the timidness in her shaking body. The maids putting her in a thin nightgown as well as a thin robe seemed cruel. It was clear the purpose for the night ahead.

She began to wonder if the Duke himself requested her to be dressed in such a thing.

"C-come in," Leonor called towards the door.

Her stomach fell, realizing the Duke intended to sleep in the room with her.

Duke Desmond appeared in the doorway after pushing open the door and he seemed to avoid looking at the woman sitting on the chair in front of the fireplace.

The Duke wore a silk robe with the hood up and bandages just as before. However, he had gotten changed into more comfortable clothing that was suitable for sleeping in. Leonor couldn’t glean anything from his face because she couldn’t see his expression.

"Was everything to your liking?" he asked her, his rough voice slightly more gentle when he didn’t have to project as loud.

She had to force herself to respond.

"It was," she timidly uttered. "Thank you for your generosity."

Duke Desmond paused in his walk forward at Leonor’s words and he lifted his head an inch so he could cast his gaze towards her more meaningfully.

"Generosity?" he questioned. "You’re my wife. The benefits of my life extend to you. If you need something, ask for it."

Leonor nodded, but the facade she had been keeping up fell for a moment and she hugged her arms.

"You ought to get into the bed," the duke suggested. "I’ve asked the maids to leave us alone the rest of the night."

Leonor’s head snapped up and she looked at him with innocent blue eyes full of such fear at his words. His intentions felt glaringly obvious.

However, the duke turned away from her and he shook his head at her overreaction. He was painting himself in a bad light by only saying a few words.

It had been the most he talked in quite a while. His throat was already raw from interaction with people all day.

"I mean to say you ought to rest up for the journey to Montclair," he corrected himself. "It will take over a week as we cross the southern mountain pass that leads up to the duchy."

The duke started to walk forward again. To Leonor’s surprise, it was towards double doors in the center of the wall. He pushed them open to reveal another bed chamber.

Before Leonor could filter herself, she blurted out a question burning inside of her.

"Is that everything you require, your grace?" she asked. "You only came inside these quarters to say I should go to bed?"

The Duke hesitated before he could walk through the doors.

"The way you look at me..." he trailed off, stopping himself from uttering words he wouldn’t be able to take away. "I will never lay a finger on you."

"I didn’t mean-"

"Goodnight, my lady," he interrupted.

There was a strange contradiction in her mind as she wondered if she wasn’t desirable enough for him. Yet the thoughts made room for relief. She had been dressed in such skimpy clothing she had come to terms with the thought of the scarred man doing as he pleased with her.

She felt too overwhelmed to ask another question.

"Goodnight, your grace," was what she settled with.

The Duke found it impossible to sleep with the layer of bandages covering him. It was starting to become itchy. Even though he had only just bathed and had the bandages placed back over his head and hand, they were impossible to get used to.

He pulled off his bandages but kept them in his hands in case he needed to put them on quickly.

Only after he pulled them off was he able to sleep, but he made sure the thin silk of his hood was lying over most of his face first.

On the other side of the door, Leonor found it difficult to get used to her new situation. Would he truly never seek her out for a physical relationship? She had heard horror stories of men and found it hard to believe.

However, she wasn’t going to test her luck. The more she settled in the large bed, the easier it was to fall into the warm embrace of sleep.

As the first rays of sunlight filtered into his bedroom through the sheer curtains that were hung over the window, there was a crackling of the fireplace as wood broke down and the final stages of the fire ate away at what was left amidst the stone and brick.

However, the crackling made Desmond spring up from his bed. His chest was heaving and droplets of sweat gathered on his forehead. It took him a few moments to realize that nothing was on fire. The fireplace had contained everything and he wasn’t in danger.

As he sat down on the edge of his bed, he convinced himself to calm down. It was an ongoing issue of his. The mental scars of the war often appeared more frequently at night. If he didn’t sleep, he wouldn’t be vulnerable. If he wasn’t vulnerable then he couldn’t be caught off guard.

He only hoped the woman on the other side of the door didn’t hear him.

Desmond didn’t sleep more but he sat for a couple more hours.

At least until a knock could be heard at the main door of the bed chambers.