Side Story 6: That Summer
Translator: RaidenTL
Side Story 6: That Summer
Rainier Kailas.
Such was the name of Harriet and Cedric’s firstborn daughter.
Born the summer following their wedding, Rainier was the spitting image of Cedric—a living proclamation of her status as the eldest daughter and heir to the Ducal House of Kailas.
"I was truly surprised when I first saw her. I’ve never seen a newborn with so much hair," Harriet murmured, stroking the fine locks of the infant sleeping in her arms after the final feeding of the night.
Nearing her hundredth day, Rainier was adorably plump with baby fat. Though Harriet had suffered through a grueling labor in the height of summer, the child shone brilliantly, as if blessed by the very season of her birth.
She had golden hair that looked like spun sunlight, long lashes, and clear red eyes like berries kissed by dew. Her personality was cheerful and spirited, as vibrant as nature itself. In fact, she already showed the budding signs of a tomboy, making her seem entirely different from her father despite their identical features.
"It’s a relief that her personality, at least, resembles yours," Cedric whispered, sitting beside Harriet and looking down at the child in her arms.
In truth, he had hoped for a daughter who looked like Harriet. He believed that by giving a child who was the image of his wife everything he possibly could, he might finally heal the lingering wounds within Harriet’s heart. When he realized Rainier had been cast perfectly from his own mold, he felt a flicker of disappointment—though, of course, he never breathed a word of it.
Harriet chuckled, then turned her head as if a thought had just struck her.
"Oh! Aunt Roxana agreed to be Rainier’s godmother."
"I see. That is a blessing."
"Wait, did I tell you? Did I mention that Aunt is pregnant?"
"Yes. She asked me not to let on that I knew until she brought it up herself."
Harriet let out an awkward laugh and sighed.
"Lately, I find myself repeating things or forgetting what I was thinking only a moment ago. I feel like such a fool."
"Sir Nelson said it was only temporary. It will improve as your body recovers."
Harriet smiled and nodded, reassured. She wasn't overly worried, as many of her friends who had given birth before her described similar experiences, but the occasional cloudiness in her mind was still unpleasant.
"You poured every nutrient in your body into creating a new life. That is no small feat. You must focus entirely on your recovery now."
Benjamin Nelson, her physician, seemed worried she might try to start running around at any moment and had issued a strict set of instructions. Not that Cedric would have allowed her to exert herself anyway.
Because she had given birth in the middle of summer, Harriet often craved ice-cold water, but Cedric insisted she quench her thirst with succulent fruits and made sure every beverage she drank was served warm. The fruit juice was sweet, but it wasn't cold, and it did nothing to ward off the sweltering heat.
It had been so frustrating that, at one point, she had actually burst into tears.
"I don’t want any gifts! I don't care about a celebration! Just give me a single glass of water with ice!"
Looking back, it was a trivial thing, but she couldn't understand why she had cried so much then. Yet, what had truly soothed her craving and her sorrow was the pained expression on Cedric’s face.
"I’m sorry, Harriet. Please, just bear with it a little longer. I’m only doing this because it’s best for your health."
His hand, gripping hers tightly, had been trembling. The realization that she didn't want a cold drink enough to make him that anxious made the heat bearable from then on.
She hadn't understood why he had become so overprotective at the time, but she learned the reason once she had recovered: she had lost a significant amount of blood during delivery, and there had been several dangerous moments. Because of that, the midwife and the doctor had provided a list of things the Duchess had to avoid at all costs.
It was all in the past now, and she felt fine, but Cedric still checked her condition every single day.
Sometimes, it almost feels like he blames Rainier.
In fact, what troubled Harriet most lately was that her husband didn't seem particularly affectionate toward their first child. It was the same even now; though the baby was fast asleep, he hadn't once asked to hold her.
Does he... dislike our baby?
The thought made her terribly sad. To Harriet, Rainier was more precious than anything in the world. Her love for her daughter felt like destiny. If Cedric, who had helped create this adorable life, didn't feel the same...
No. That can't be. They say men can feel a sense of detachment at first because they didn't carry the child themselves. It will get better.
Even she, who had carried and birthed the girl, had felt a strange, distant wonder when she first held her.
But when Cedric didn't hold the baby even once before the wet nurse arrived to take her away, Harriet sighed. He hadn't even stroked the child's head, let alone gathered her in his arms.
Am I just being sensitive?
As Cedric prepared for bed, Harriet recalled her own overwhelming affection for the baby and the strange looks she sometimes received for it. Although the trend was beginning to change, it was still considered standard among high-ranking nobility to entrust a newborn entirely to a wet nurse.
Cedric, too, had immediately sought out a wet nurse, intending to delegate the childcare. But for Harriet, the child meant everything. She didn't want to be separated for a second; she wanted to nurse the baby herself and comfort her when she cried. She didn't want to miss a single moment of her daughter growing up.
Cedric, however, had opposed her.
"That is greed, Harriet. You must focus on your recovery. Leave the child to the wet nurse. Rainier won't become someone else's daughter just because of that."
His words had sounded so cold that she hadn't been able to hide her hurt. She knew he spoke out of concern for her, but she hated his attitude—it felt as though he were treating their daughter like someone else's business.
Cedric grew up that way, so perhaps it’s natural for him. But considering his relationship with his own mother...
It was a relationship with affection, yes, but it wasn't tender. His feelings for his father were much the same. He loved them, certainly, but there was a distance there—a distance she didn't want between herself and Rainier.
"A good night's sleep will clear your head by morning. Don't worry, just try to rest."
Cedric soothed her gently and extinguished the light, as if sensing her lingering anxiety over her forgetfulness.
"Sleep well. I love you."
Harriet soon drifted off, lulled by his sweet whisper. She hadn't realized just how exhausted she was.
*
Cedric... Cedric?
Harriet fumbled at the space beside her in her sleep, only to open her eyes when she felt nothing but cold sheets. Thanks to the dim lamp she had left on, she realized the other side of the bed was empty.
What time is it?
She checked the clock: it was only ten in the evening. She had only been asleep for an hour.
Is he busy with work again?
She knew there were nights when Cedric would wait for her to fall asleep before heading to his office. Even when she told him she could sleep alone, he always insisted on staying by her side until she drifted off.
If only he loved Rainier as much as he loves me.
The fact that the thought returned the moment she woke showed how much it was weighing on her heart. She tried to go back to sleep, but her mind was too sharp now. Eventually, Harriet stood up.
Since I’m awake, I might as well check on Rainier.
She draped a warm shawl over her shoulders and left the bedroom. The nursery was close by, where the wet nurse and a maid watched over the child. Since it was only ten, she doubted she would wake them.
However, as she reached the corridor leading to the nursery, she saw the wet nurse and the maid standing in the hallway, whispering.
"Mrs. Bourbon? Adeline?"
"Ah, Duchess! Weren't you asleep?"
"I woke up. But why are you both out here? Who is watching Rainier?"
She asked, confused, but the two women merely exchanged glances and wore subtle, knowing smiles. Then, they gestured toward the slightly ajar nursery door, beckoning her to look inside.
Harriet, still puzzled, held her breath and peered through the gap.
"Oh...?"
Rainier was sleeping soundly in her cradle. And right beside her, watching her with an intensity that never wavered, was Cedric.
"His Grace comes to watch over her every night," the wet nurse whispered. "And if the young lady wakes, he is the one who picks her up and comforts her."
As if to prove her words, Cedric leaned down and gently kissed the sleeping baby’s forehead. Harriet had never seen such an expression on her husband’s face.
How could she describe it? It was the look of a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet gazing at something so precious it made the burden worth it.
Cedric was so focused on the infant that he didn't notice his audience. He whispered softly:
"Rainier... I am afraid of you."
His large hand carefully stroked the baby’s tiny fingers.
"You must be an angel sent to be my undoing."
Smiling, he kissed those milky-scented fingers again, as if revering a delicate work of art made of the thinnest glass.
"I love you, my little one. I love you."
Having seen enough, Harriet slowly backed away and turned.
"Aren't you going in, Your Grace?" the wet nurse offered.
Harriet simply placed a finger to her lips. "Shh."
She returned to her bedroom, unwilling to interrupt the precious moment between father and daughter. The darkness of the hallway now felt incredibly cozy.
What was I worried about again?
Whether it was her forgetfulness or the peace in her heart, she couldn't quite remember what had made her so anxious. Even as she climbed back into the empty bed, she felt no regret.
It was a night of overwhelming happiness.