My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 77: Her First Request

Chapter 77: Her First Request

The day the duke and duchess returned from their week’s worth of travel from Burien to Montclair was a breath of fresh air for Desmond.

While he didn’t remove his bandages right away, he could finally let down his guard at least somewhat. The staff of his estate were used to his appearance. Anyone who shrank away at the sight of him had been let go long before.

If there was one place he wanted to be comfortable, it was his home. While he was mostly understanding, that was where he drew the line.

Considering the pile of work that needed to be done at his desk, there were many letters to send out. Most people he had to communicate with were within his duchy so sending a messenger to deliver the letters was enough. However, there were a few that required a messenger hawk.

By the time he sent off his third letter after his return, he expected nothing strange until he heard the frantic squawking of a hawk.

He turned in the nick of time to see the messenger hawk get slammed against the window by what seemed to be an eagle. However, he had never seen a grey eagle in his entire life.

Desmond couldn’t pretend to know everything there was to know about ornithology, but grey eagles in Montclair weren’t the norm. That much he could be certain of.

That moment stuck out in his mind because of the gruesomeness. It felt like a bad omen. He blamed it on Mother Nature and moved on, finding another way to get letters a long distance.

The maids efficiently cleaned up the mess of blood on his window and balcony. He was shocked to see the window unscathed.

Considering the eagle didn’t take the letter and all others that day were delivered as expected, he hadn’t spared that moment a thought in quite a while.

After Desmond recounted his tail of the messenger hawk in as few words as he possibly could, Leonor couldn’t help wondering if the grey eagle was the very familiar she saw in the garden. She gasped at the gruesomeness of his story.

Considering Eve became unsettled when Leonor felt something, she leaped out of the duke’s comfortable arm and scurried back to wherever she went underneath the low bushes.

"Where does she go when she’s not with you?" the duke wondered quietly.

"Familiars disappear frequently," she explained. "They only exist when we acknowledge them."

Desmond uttered a quiet "ah" in response.

They kept walking and Leonor occasionally touched one of the flower petals affectionately.

"This garden is my favorite one of yours," she muttered wistfully, not expecting the duke to comment. "I like the natural beauty of it. It’s a bit less done up."

"The gardens are yours as well," he corrected.

Though his tone was rough because of his raspy voice, she knew he was being kind in his own way. She couldn’t help being happy at his reminder.

It truly was hers. She was a Montclair after all. As strange as it felt to admit to herself, he was her family.

The silence between them returned.

Crickets filled in the space where words didn’t exist. They silently communicated as Desmond occasionally pointed to a flower he wanted her to see. She would let out an ’aw’ of admiration. They would keep walking.

"Is there a mage in Montclair powerful enough to send their familiar all this way?" Leonor eventually inquired. "The only person I know who has a familiar powerful enough to be sent a long distance is His Majesty. That would mean the mage has to be close by."

"That’s something I can look into," the duke assured her and she knew he would hold true to his word.

It was enough for her and she gave a smile and nod.

In Leonor’s opinion, the likely offender was in the walled township at the bottom of the mountain. She wondered if there were many mages around Montclair. The duke hadn’t voiced his support of mages or otherwise since she met him.

Considering they had already begun their walk back toward the heart of the estate, Leonor realized she only had a small amount of time to bring up something else weighing on her heart.

In the nearly one month she and the duke had been married, she hadn’t asked for anything out of the usual. It was making her nervous to hear his response.

At one point in her life, she never asked her father for anything, but she was determined to shed the scars of her past and occasionally remind herself she was no longer in a volatile environment.

"This talk of familiars has me thinking..." she trailed off nervously.

Desmond watched her eyes drop and knew she was scared to say what she wanted to. He wished there was a way to make himself less imposing.

"Go on," he nearly whispered.

She distracted herself with a purple flower. Her fingers went to the stem as if to ensure it was strong enough to hold such a beautiful bloom. She distracted herself.

"I would like to find someone to practice my magic with, your grace," Leonor explained. "I feel I could be more useful if I kept up with my magic abilities. They will only get worse if I neglect them."

He nodded slowly.

"I will send a letter," Desmond said. "There are mages who can help me."

He wanted to tell her not to worry about being useful. She didn’t need to do anything extra. However, he knew Leonor and he knew she wouldn’t be satisfied for long simply doing nothing. She was that way when she was younger as well.

After watching her heal from a broken leg, he knew for certain she didn’t like being forced to stay put.

It was a short answer as usual but enough to warm Leonor’s heart. She smiled up at the duke. It was less shy than normal.

Desmond had to glance away from her quickly. He looked at the sky.

Since he burnt himself, his smile covered only half of his mouth. It was more of a grimace. He didn’t dare meet Leonor’s beautiful expression of happiness with such a pathetic one.

"Thank you," Leonor responded. "It means a lot."

Her mother wasn’t able to foster an environment in Burien where her mana could grow and evolve.

Leonor felt like she was truly treading down a different path than her mother.

It wouldn’t have been possible without the help of the silent but always gentle duke.

A month of marriage was what it took for Leonor to realize he was becoming her best friend. All he did was listen to her yet he remained. He continued to be the one who invited her out after dinner each evening.

Her happiness made her feel lightweight like a cloud.

Yet when she was alone, healing the flower in her locket, the guilt would eat away at her heart.