My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 73: Garden Walk

Chapter 73: Garden Walk

Ever since she fell into a mundane routine where she was someone who only took walks, read books, and ate food, Leonor’s bedtime had gotten earlier and earlier. When the duke asked her if she wanted to go for a walk in the garden, needless to say, she was surprised.

She planned to find out why she was there in the first place. She would return to her room and sleep once she had her answer.

Walking in the garden with him was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

"Yes, your grace," she said. "Shall we try the front garden?"

Never before had she explored those gardens. Normally that area was full of people. Whether it be a worker or someone passing through to see the duke, she had a habit of trying to hide herself away.

It was a habit she certainly knew wasn’t becoming of the lady of the house. It was another aspect of herself she would have to learn to correct for Desmond’s reputation.

As usual, he was a man of few words as they left his study and went out a less direct entrance that put them in a southeastern garden. He held the door open for her and she exited the mansion.

It was a bit colder than she expected, but she was too satisfied with getting what she wanted to complain about the weather.

"Is this where you would like to go?" he asked quietly.

"It is," she responded. "Thank you."

They both naturally fell for the path heading right out of the door and found themselves amidst beautiful blooms. Unlike the garden in the courtyard which had a more natural feeling to it, the gardens at the front of the estate were more structured and groomed. There were sharp edges and unnaturally shaped shrubs that had been trimmed to fit against walkways.

Leonor was relieved to find he didn’t walk in front of her or behind her as they went along. He was by her side even if he wouldn’t stand close to her. It made her feel that perhaps he saw her as someone of equal value. There weren’t that many noblemen who would believe that.

She didn’t know if he was untrained as a noble or if he simply didn’t like contact with others but a man in his station would normally offer their arm. He was as far from her as the path would allow.

Since it was late, lanterns lit up their path but it was still dim enough to hide his face, Desmond noted.

The silence felt heavy because neither of them knew what to say. Which subject would be suitable for such different people? They had nothing in common, as far as Leonor could tell, except for their marriage.

"I’m not taking you away from your work, am I?" she asked hesitantly. "Gideon said you’ve been quite busy since we returned from Burien."

Desmond had many late nights under his belt sitting at the very desk she seemingly retrieved him from. It was something he was used to. Ever since he returned from the front lines, he could never get a full night of sleep.

"I was the one who offered," he reminded her.

As they walked past a fountain standing in the center of this stretch of garden, Leonor glanced at the duke. She had always wanted to ask him something but never knew if she would be considered insensitive.

Since she was the one who had initiated getting to know one another better, she decided to press on.

Desmond felt Leonor’s gaze on him and was immediately filled with dread at her curiosity of him.

He should have known that her kindness would be what made it so she would try to get closer to him. She wasn’t simply curious but she didn’t judge others. He should have known that from the way he didn’t care whether or not he was a noble when he first met her.

He tried not to turn away from her completely.

Even though over half of his face was unrecognizable, there was always the small chance something might remind her of Valerio.

"Does it hurt to speak?" Leonor asked.

It wasn’t the question Desmond expected. He thought she might inquire about his life. He wondered if she would start with small talk, but she skipped right over any pleasantries and right into something so extreme.

The concern in her tone was enough to make him pause. For once, he turned towards her and she could see more of his face. What wasn’t skin was simply dark. She realized he wasn’t wearing bandages and she had to try not to step away.

It wasn’t that it frightened her but seeing the darkness where his pale skin should have been made her think of how much he had suffered to get such a disfigurement. It was hard to face knowing she had never experienced anything so awful.

The wounds she sustained in her life made her terrified to that day. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to have something so much worse and always remind him of when it happened.

"It does sometimes," he admitted. "If I speak quietly, it’s more bearable."

That was the most alarming thing from when he woke up. He cried out in pain because of his burns but he continued when it was his throat that burned. His voice went hoarse and they could only ask him what he remembered.

He didn’t specifically remember his skin getting burnt or swallowing air hot enough that permanently ruined his vocal cords. All he remembered was the fire. He had been terrified of it ever since.

Leonor gasped at his response.

"That’s why you have others make announcements while we traveled," she realized. "If I may be honest, I thought you simply didn’t like speaking to others. If speaking to me is too much..."

How could she say it would be fine if he didn’t talk to her when she went through such lengths to get him to talk to her at all.

She had since looked away from him but her emerald eyes snapped back to Desmond when she heard a short chuckle escape his lips. It was a bit dry but a laugh was a laugh in her eyes.

"I don’t like speaking to others," he admitted. "In that case, there are two reasons I don’t talk all that much. Although, I don’t mind listening."