My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 79: The Red Dress

Chapter 79: The Red Dress

By then, the maids had stopped asking Leonor if she wanted to wear something different to dinner. They were dutiful servants in tune with their masters’ wants and schedules, after all.

It was a surprise when Leonor stepped into the hallway after a few hours and requested help getting into a new dress. The one she wore was light and the evening felt like it might be more appropriate to wear something more substantial.

While she didn’t want to wear a structured bodice or a heavy gown, she wanted to wear something that made her seem more mature. She was having dinner with her husband, after all.

A bright red dress was brought out for her. While it was a long-sleeved garment, the outer layer was sheer enough material she didn’t feel warm. It was an off-the-shoulder style that remained mostly modest. Since he didn’t tend to look at her, she figured she could get away with something lower cut and he would pay it no mind anyway.

He had given her an environment she was comfortable exploring herself in. She was starting to try out daring styles she normally wouldn’t reach for.

Leonor decided if he could hide in the cover of darkness, then so would she.

Depending on how the maids responded to her choice of dress for the evening, she might be more daring in the future if it felt good enough.

On the other hand, Desmond was fretting over the thought of having to sit before Leonor for so long. The summer days were long and the sun set late. It was likely they would be on the balcony while the sun set.

He didn’t want to be too hot, but he felt there was nothing else he could do except tie bandages around his face and wear a sheer hood in hopes it was breathable enough not to get overly hot, yet hidden enough to conceal himself in front of her.

The thought of disgusting her enough that she was too uncomfortable to eat felt like a reality in his thoughts. She had stopped giving any indication she might be disgusted with him, but she hadn’t been given ample opportunity to gaze at his face for longer than a few moments at a time.

When he was summoned for dinner, he had an overwhelming feeling that it was the beginning of the end. Her kindness towards him had run its course and he would have to face the reality he had been waiting for. Her asking to get to know him was a dream he dared to have.

However, as he was led out to where they would be eating, he saw a beautiful table set up with a short vase of colorful flowers in the center. There was a cream-colored tablecloth and dark green mats where their plates, silverware, and napkins had been set.

Along the stone railing surrounding the balcony, there were a couple of torches, but most of the light was due to strings going to the rooftop that held a few glass lanterns with small white candles inside. They cast a golden glow over the table. Since the sun was on the other side of the estate, the shadows were enough to make one believe it was much later in the day.

He felt somewhat relieved even though the evening hadn’t even truly begun.

To calm himself down, the duke walked towards the balcony’s edge and rested his large hands on the stone railing. He was wearing gloves but they were thin enough that he could feel the coldness of the stone.

A light breeze came from the east and he felt a bit less anxiety-ridden.

He looked over his duchy and reminded himself that it was all for her. She didn’t have to love him. She didn’t even have to like him. It was all hers and no one would take it from her, not even the King.

"Your grace," a maid said from the doorway. "The duchess."

Before Desmond could turn around, he gently pinched the front of his thin grey cape, making sure it hadn’t fallen backward, and revealed more to her than he realized.

At once the King told him he should diversify his wardrobe and stop wearing black. His compromise was to wear mostly grey. To be constantly adorned in royal colors that likely took a lot of work to dye and craft didn’t suit him. Even if his station wasn’t plain, his appearance didn’t need further attention drawn to it. It wasn’t as if he could chase away the ugliness with gilded thread.

He slowly turned around and felt an electric shock through his core. He had to step backward and grip the stone railing he had just leaned against.

In front of him, Leonor wore a red dress with long sleeves that fell off of her shoulders and revealed more of her than he had ever been blessed to see before despite all the nights he shared a bed with her during their travels. Her nightgowns didn’t make his head feel so hot.

It wasn’t as if her dress was immodest particularly - it was simply that he wasn’t used to her wearing something so eye-catching. His eyes only left her to make sure no one else was looking at her.

The red material that made up the arms of the gown was translucent and gave way to sleeves that draped off of her arms at the elbows. The bodice itself was a more structured shape that connected to the skirts of an equally fiery red color. At her waist was a thick black strip that belted the garment and made her waist look thin.

As usual, the only jewels she wore were the emerald on her wedding band and small emerald earrings that hid in her black locks and only made themselves known when the candlelight around the balcony bounced off of it. She always wore a locket on her neck and he continued to wonder whose image was inside of it.

One of the maids put a bright red rose in her hair at the back of her head, holding up the front part of her hair so it wouldn’t fall into her face.

He got the courage to step forward and reach for his wife’s hand. At that moment he felt like guiding her. He hadn’t offered his hand to her since the day they returned to his estate. He only helped her out of the carriage and that was their last contact outside of the handshake she initiated in his office.

He was reminded that he would never measure up to her or deserve her and shouldn’t make a habit out of touching her.

"Good evening, Leonor," he uttered her name with his rough voice but still managed to make it seem like a precious word to him.

"Good evening, Desmond," she greeted him with a small grin.

She had noticed him pause and step backwards after seeing her as if he was struck by her appearance. Perhaps he preferred bright colors.

Even if he didn’t love her, it wouldn’t be bad if he liked her outward appearance. She had a strange desire to test his tastes.