Lately, it seemed as if good news just kept pouring into Sardinson County.
With the Earl's return came another piece of wonderful news, which quickly spread throughout the entire region.
The Countess was pregnant!
This was big news, not just for the nobility, but also for the common folk—anyone who was part of Sardinson County. It meant that in the not-so-distant future, this increasingly prosperous land would finally welcome a new heir.
Many people even quietly breathed a sigh of relief because of it.
For the people, the more stable life was, the better. But if they were aware that their lives were truly improving, then a bit of instability was tolerable—after all, who wouldn't want a better life?
And Sardinson County today, even those powerful barons who had been severely suppressed by Felix had to admit it was better than it had ever been before, and visibly getting even better.
So even those barons hoped for continued prosperity and stability.
And an heir was essential to that.
Everyone hoped that the Countess's child would be a boy. Just think of the Earl's elder brother—if he hadn't had only a daughter, the title would never have passed to the current Earl. Though, admittedly, it was precisely because of that twist of fate that Sardinson County became what it was today. Still, in the beginning, it did go through a brief period of unrest and turbulence.
Especially now, with the Williams family having only one male heir left—the Earl himself—if no other male heir emerged, then the family's legacy and all it stood for would pass to some distant male relative. And who knew what kind of man that might be? Certainly, no one believed he would be better than the current Earl.
So everyone sincerely wished for the Countess to give birth to a healthy baby boy.
"Can I touch it?" Dolores had arrived at the castle two days after Felix, and the first thing she heard upon arrival was this delightful news. She sat beside Weiwei, her eyes full of anticipation as she looked at her stomach.
But along with the anticipation came nervousness and anxiety, as if she feared Weiwei might refuse.
Weiwei's belly didn't look any different from before—still flat with not the slightest bulge—yet there was already a baby growing inside. How unbelievable!
Dolores had always loved children. That much was clear from the way she loved playing with Caroline, and even lent her favorite doll, Amy, to her.
—Of course, part of that affection came from the empathy born of shared pain.
And now, she was about to have a nephew.
Weiwei smiled with ease. It seemed like everyone just assumed she was carrying a boy. Though she hoped so too, such things didn't bend to human will—it was far too early to tell.
Still, even she hoped her first child would be a boy—not because of gender bias, but because a boy would simply make everything a lot easier.
"Of course," she said, taking Dolores's hand and placing it gently on her belly. After a while, she asked, "Feel anything?"
"Nothing," Dolores said, baffled, staring at her belly with doubt. Was her little nephew really in there?
Her confusion was written all over her face, and Weiwei chuckled. "The fetus is still very small. It's normal to not feel anything yet. Haven't you seen a pregnant woman before?"
"I have. When Sister-in-law Penna was pregnant, I saw her," Dolores replied calmly, even when mentioning the sister-in-law who died in childbirth. "But she never let me near her."
Two of Weiwei's maids had once served that sister-in-law, so she had learned a few things about the lady she'd never met.
Penna had been a very traditional noblewoman. To most people, she seemed gentle, kind, and impeccably mannered—the perfect lady of the house. And in truth, she wasn't a two-faced person; she was just someone with a very guarded heart.
Her relationship with her husband's younger siblings wasn't great. Felix was spared because he spent most of his time away from Sardinson and rarely saw her. Though he could sense she wasn't as friendly as she appeared—possibly even a little hostile—he chose to ignore it.
But it was different for Dolores.
As the daughter of the late Earl, Dolores had always been something of an invisible presence in the castle. She had so few people to talk to, and she'd hoped the seemingly warm and kind Penna would treat her well.
But in reality, Penna, perhaps due to the Earl's attitude, treated her as a non-entity. Their interactions were brief and perfunctory, her smiles masking an indifference that the sensitive Dolores could easily detect.
And once Penna got pregnant, that coldness turned into outright avoidance—as if merely being around Dolores would bring her misfortune.
That kind of fear-based avoidance had once broken Dolores's heart, though she understood why it happened. She had overheard people whispering that Penna avoided her to escape the same fate as the late Countess, Dolores's mother.
After that, Dolores gave up trying to get close to her sister-in-law and obediently stayed away. But clearly, that hadn't brought any good fortune—Penna still died in childbirth.
So now, facing Weiwei's pregnancy, Dolores was both excited and scared. She looked forward to her nephew's birth but feared Weiwei might treat her the same way Penna did.
Her cautious request wasn't just about touching her unborn nephew—it was a tentative test of Weiwei's attitude.
Fortunately, Weiwei wasn't like Penna. Not at all.
"That wasn't your fault. Her difficult labor had nothing to do with you."
Like most noblewomen, Penna had married young—too young, just like Dolores now. She was only thirteen when she married Felix's older brother, and her body was not yet ready for pregnancy. But she had desperately wanted a child and worked hard for it.
She gave birth to Caroline at fifteen—too young, too fragile, and her body couldn't handle the strain. That poor young lady withered away in the prime of her life.
And it wasn't just her. Many women shared the same fate: married and pregnant young, only to die tragically soon after. Weiwei had been reluctant to get pregnant this early herself, given how young her body appeared.
But she had her reasons. This body was created by the system. While it looked young, it was far healthier than most. Over the past year, her physical stats hadn't changed at all—besides natural hair and nail growth, her height, weight, and appearance were almost the same.
This body may have looked childlike, but it was fully developed and perfectly capable of bearing a child.
Weiwei was also a doctor. She knew how to care for herself and prepare for childbirth. So she wasn't afraid—she just had to stay healthy.
Weiwei's comfort hit Dolores hard. She heard more than just reassurance about Penna—she also heard something about her mother, the late Countess, who had died giving birth to her.
"She said it wasn't your fault."
No one had ever told Dolores that before. No one had ever said the one thing she had always longed to hear.
She had hoped her father would say it once, but he never did. His cold gaze always seemed to accuse her of being the reason his wife had died. That was why she'd been given the name Dolores. He placed all the blame on her shoulders—and never let it go, even up to his death.
Her brothers were the same. Dolores didn't know if they blamed her, but they certainly treated her the same way her father had—with indifference and disregard.
But now, finally, someone had said it—someone she considered her true family.
Weiwei held the girl close as she sobbed uncontrollably, gently patting her back in comfort. For once, she was at a loss. She couldn't understand why such a simple sentence had brought on such an emotional storm. Dolores's tears poured like a faucet had been turned on, her nose bubbling with snot. She looked completely devastated.
If this had been anyone else, Weiwei would've shoved them off in an instant for getting tears and snot on her. But this was her sister-in-law.
She could only sigh, hold her tight, and offer her a handkerchief.
Felix came in just then with the fruit Weiwei had asked for and was greeted by the sight of his little sister bawling in his wife's arms.
He looked at her, then at Weiwei, silently mouthing: What happened?
Weiwei sighed: No idea.
She signaled for him to leave, letting Dolores calm down in private. Surely she wouldn't want anyone else seeing her like this.
Felix quietly placed the fruit tray on the side table and left without making a sound—never once disturbing his weeping sister.
Dolores cried for a long time. Between sobs, she stammered out fragments of her story. Weiwei's warmth made her drop her guard entirely as if she were pouring out all the hidden thoughts she had never shared with anyone. She laid her heart bare.
Weiwei listened silently, letting her vent. When Dolores finally ran out of tears and words, she suddenly realized how unladylike her outburst had been and hastily pulled away.
"I'm sorry... I lost control," she said, still hiccuping, clearly embarrassed.
Weiwei pretended not to notice how swollen her eyes were and handed her a handkerchief. "It's fine. Do you feel better now?"
"...Yes."
"Next time, talk about it. Don't keep it all bottled up. It's not good for your health," Weiwei said gently, patting her head. "Go wash your face and get some rest. You've just arrived—you need time to recover."
Dolores had run straight to her room after hearing the news, still wearing her travel clothes. Considering the journey she'd just endured, she needed rest.
Mortified, Dolores quickly excused herself and hurried out, her steps much faster than usual.
Not long after she left, Felix returned.
He sat beside Weiwei, picked up a grape from the fruit tray, peeled it, and popped it into her mouth.
Most grapes in Europe were for winemaking, but there were edible varieties too. The Williams family didn't own vineyards, but some destitute noble descendants in Sardinson made a living from grape-growing. These grapes came from one such source.
"What happened? I've never seen her cry like that."
Honestly, the sight had startled him. He'd never seen anyone cry like their world had just ended.
He'd even wondered if someone had bullied her.
Weiwei explained what had happened and why Dolores cried. Then she added, "She's been holding too much in. Letting it out is good."
After a pause, she couldn't help asking, "Did you ever think your mother's death was her fault?"
Felix hadn't expected Dolores to think that way. Stunned, he frowned and answered firmly, "No. Never. We all know it was just a tragic accident."
By "we," he meant himself and his elder brother, Alec.
They had always known their father's treatment of Dolores was unfair, but there was nothing they could do. Still, neither of them had ever blamed her for their mother's death.
"When Dolores was born, our mother was already quite old. She shouldn't have been giving birth anymore. But when she found out she was pregnant, she insisted on keeping the baby. We were mentally prepared for what might happen."
Medical technology was so primitive at the time. Women died in childbirth all the time. A child was often born at the cost of the mother's life. People had accepted that reality long ago.
The old Earl hadn't wanted the child, but couldn't change her mind. Abortion was risky too, so he had no choice. In the end, the worst happened.
No one was really to blame. It was just fate.
"I never understood why she insisted on keeping the child, but it was her decision. Not even Father could stop her—so we certainly couldn't."
Felix spoke without emotion. Time had dulled the pain. Dolores was now thirteen, and their mother had been gone for thirteen years. Grief had long since turned into quiet sorrow.
He barely remembered his mother's face now. He had left home at seven to train as a knight. He rarely saw her even when he visited. Their relationship had been distant. Perhaps that was why, after her two sons left home, the Countess felt so lonely and insisted on having another child.
"I was never close to Dolores because I was rarely home. And I didn't know how to talk to her—we're so far apart in age. We had nothing in common."
Back then, when Dolores was born, Felix was already eleven or twelve. In this era, that age gap was practically like that between a father and child. He was just a boy who preferred playing with kids his age. How could he bond with a baby?
As he grew older, the difference between boys and girls widened further. He was too busy to pay attention to her thoughts, so he'd never realized what she was carrying in her heart.
Holding his wife close, leaning against the sofa's soft cushions, he said quietly, "I never said it before, but I do love her."
They had spent little time together, but he never forgot to bring her gifts whenever he returned home—each one chosen with care.
"You should tell her," Weiwei rested her head on his shoulder. "Some things need to be said."
"Alright. I'll talk to her soon." Felix agreed easily. He was never shy about expressing his feelings—he just hadn't realized the need until now.
They sat in silence for a long while, enjoying the peace of the moment.
Then Felix asked suddenly, "Are you worried?"
Weiwei blinked. "Worried about what?"
He placed a hand gently on her belly. "This."
It took a moment for her to realize what he meant.
Because of his mother, Felix was worried the same fate might await Weiwei.
"I'm not worried," she said lightly, resting her head again. "I'm a doctor. I know my own body. I won't end up like them."
She was confident in that.
"But don't they say doctors can't heal themselves?"
He was the worried one.
"There are still months before the birth. I'll train Kama to be a competent midwife. Even if I can't handle it on my own, there will be someone there for me."
Not just Kama—she planned to train several people. After all, she wouldn't be the only one facing childbirth.
Of course, she hoped everything would go smoothly.
To avoid letting Felix spiral into anxious thoughts, she changed the subject. "Do you want a boy or a girl?"
That brightened him up. "I'll love them either way, but if I had to choose, I'd prefer a boy for the first."
"For the inheritance?"
"Yes," he nodded honestly. "I've seen too many families fall from grace for lack of an heir. As the head of the Williams family, it's my responsibility to ensure it continues."
"What if I can't give you a son?"
"Don't say such scary things," Felix replied, though he seriously considered it. "If we don't have a son, then our daughter's child can inherit. An heir doesn't have to be a direct son."
In Europe, inheritance laws gave priority to male bloodlines. Even a distant male relative would inherit before a daughter. —Though bloodline wasn't the only factor. An illegitimate child had no claim, even if he was the only son. So many noble families with only daughters eventually had to choose someone else's child as heir.
But that wasn't absolute. Nobles had found workarounds.
Recently, many families have started marrying their daughters to titled nobles and signing agreements to have at least one child bear the mother's surname and inherit her family title. It wasn't law, but it was widely accepted.
Just like Allen—his mother's family title would pass to him once he married and changed his surname. There was no need to wait for the Duke of Devonshire to die.
If Allen could do it, Felix could too. As long as the child was healthy, it didn't matter if it was a boy. He'd do the same if necessary.
"If worst comes to worst, there's still Dolores. Her child could be a good choice."
"As long as we live long enough, we'll get our heir eventually."
Felix was confident. Their bodies were strong and well-cared for. Neither of them looked like they'd die young.
Weiwei hadn't expected him to be so forward-thinking. His response calmed the anxiety she hadn't even realized was weighing on her—caused by everyone's assumption that she was carrying a boy.
As long as Felix didn't care, and wouldn't treat the child differently based on gender, what was there to worry about?
She even felt like joking. "Still, I'll pray the first one's a boy. Otherwise, who knows how many I'll have to pop out."
"We can have a few more." Felix kissed her. "One child is too lonely. They should know the joy of siblings. I loved playing with my brother when I was young."
He started reminiscing about his childhood with Alec, his tone both nostalgic and a little sad. He had never imagined Alec would leave so soon.
Weiwei quietly listened, not interrupting—this was a moment for the brothers.
But soon, Felix dropped the melancholy subject, turning to something else that had been on his mind.
"The king seems to be considering marrying Prince Andrew to Dolores."