My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge -
Chapter 74: Is It Enough?
Chapter 74: Is It Enough?
The last statement wasn’t entirely true. There was a time when the duke enjoyed socializing.
Before Desmond was Desmond, he was a social butterfly. Many times in his life he got into trouble because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut according to the headmaster at the orphanage. If he wasn’t in trouble for talking, he was in trouble for talking back to authority.
Luckily, he learned to keep his mouth shut before dealing with Count Mikael.
As the duke, he had no choice but to listen more than he spoke. It would make his life much easier if he could bark orders like the other noblemen. It was frustrating having to quietly whisper an order so someone else could announce it for him.
A few times he even broke down and said what needed to be said for efficiency. He always regretted it when it felt like he had swallowed razorblades.
After mistakenly using his rough voice, he would run his tongue along the inside of his right cheek. The scars inside his mouth reminded him of why he couldn’t shout like that any longer.
He had so much pent-up emotion yet he couldn’t cry out. It was a God-given right cruelly taken away.
Desmond couldn’t help but notice Leonor seemed relieved when he added that he didn’t mind listening to others speak. It wasn’t as if she was worried for his sake specifically, she was just a nice person who considered these sorts of things.
Leonor walked forward until she found herself looking down at the fountain. There were blue tiles along the bottom of an otherwise white fountain. In the center, a horse made of white marble was leaping and water came from a decorative spout behind it.
She placed herself along the fountain’s edge to reach into the water and gently touch the clear surface.
"I’m relieved the reason for your silence isn’t that you find me a bother to talk to," she admitted. "Even if you only listen, I can live with that."
She didn’t want to hurt him more and was willing to compromise for his sake.
However, she refused to spend more time all alone. It was his turn to compromise for her sake. Even if he was silent every time they crossed paths, at least they would cross paths.
Leonor could feel him gazing at her and she looked up at him, offering a shy smile before she stood up and continued forward on the next path.
"Were the dresses in your wardrobe to your liking, my lady?" Desmond asked from a couple of paces behind Leonor.
As Leonor walked, she glanced down at the clothing she wore.
Pale purple layers made up the bottom half of her dress and the bodice was soft rather than structured. There were still laces along her back that gave her waist a cinched appearance.
"I haven’t found one I don’t like," she admitted. "Except I fear you’ll be disappointed to find that I won’t wear something more structured unless I’m forced to be in front of guests."
If Leonor could see Desmond’s face, she would see a light smirk pulling at the unscarred part of his lips.
He recalled her telling him years before that she thought clothing like that was stifling. Her father was the one who forced her to wear such fashionable items. She liked being able to move around easily.
Even though he had provided her with highly fashionable gowns, he hoped that part of her hadn’t changed. It seemed that it hadn’t.
In Desmond’s eyes, someone like Leonor didn’t have to wear gaudy or over-the-top gowns and jewels because her beauty was enough to outshine even the largest gemstone. He had still never seen anyone like her.
The ugliness he had witnessed was possible to survive if he thought of her.
"What you wear is your choice," he said, using a noncommittal response that didn’t come near what was in his heart.
It was good enough for her.
If this man who was supposed to be terrifying and cold gave her neutrality rather than hatred, she would take whatever she could get. It would make her life so much more peaceful.
She would never believe where Desmond’s thoughts had carried him.
If the duke was honest, each time he saw her in one of the dresses he bought for her, he thought she was ethereal. She had grown from the girl of his dreams to the woman of his nightmares simply because he wasn’t allowed to touch her the way he always wanted to.
When he came to the title of duke, people often told him he could have anything he desired. There were no repercussions to the men in his station.
However, he would never behave that way towards Leonor. She was all he wanted. Leonor wanting to be closer to him was more than he could ever ask for.
The rest of their walk was mostly done in silence but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as before.
Occasionally Leonor would walk by something she found particularly beautiful and commented on how well-trained the workers of Montclair Estate were. Even her father didn’t have such gifted gardeners. The only time she had seen such meticulous care for a garden was on the palace grounds.
By the time they made it to the garden’s edge, Leonor peered towards the monstrous mountain that stood at a distance. Even in the moonless night, she could easily see its harsh crag as it jutted into the sky.
They were mountains she saw every single day especially if she went into the courtyard. It felt nice to see them from a different angle for once.
As she observed the harsh peak, a gust of wind came down from the peak and she had to hug herself when chills ran up her arms and spine. It was truly so much colder than the south even in what was supposed to be a warm time of year.
Desmond caught onto Leonor’s plight quickly.
"We should head back inside," he said.
For once, Leonor agreed with her fun being cut short. She didn’t want to push her luck when they had such a positive evening.
He waited for her to go forward and he followed her as they backtracked into the same door they went out of before.
She wasn’t sure when he would leave her side.
As they continued on down many long hallways, she was shocked to see him still at her side with each turn.
It wasn’t until they got to the wing her room was in that Leonor realized he planned to walk her back to her chambers. She was touched by this realization. Her hand clenched so she wouldn’t laugh at how much the day had taken a turn.
Her husband was someone she could get along with. It wasn’t simply a feeling anymore. She was certain.
When they finally made it to her door was when the duke turned in the opposite direction.
Before he could walk away, he uttered, "Goodnight, my lady."
He made it only a few feet before he heard Leonor quietly say, "Thank you. Goodnight."
It was heartfelt enough that his heart fluttered. He resisted grabbing his chest.
When he finally made it around the corner and he was certain there was no longer a set of the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen in his life set on him, he had to pause and put a clenched fist against the wall.
How was he to remain aloof from her?
When he sacrificed himself for Castille, he didn’t realize he was sacrificing a true chance with her.
He would never be satisfied with a friendship with her.
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