Chapter 13…
Since Kevin no longer had time to see Julia and the widow Michely together, he felt a sense of loneliness.
Before he had taken Julia in, he had occasionally spent nights with other women besides Michely, but those encounters had been replaced by the time he now used to visit Julia’s room and check on her.
A night with a woman was, in the end, nothing more than the release of desire — and sometimes, it only left him feeling emptier.
He realized, with a wry smile, that Julia had become someone who eased that loneliness for him.
Kevin continued to fulfill his daily duties diligently.
He also made a point of visiting Marianna at least once a day.
Now a year and a half old, Marianna unfortunately bore no resemblance to her late brother; instead, she looked like Catherine.
Catherine was a beautiful woman, so Marianna would likely grow up to be beautiful as well — but Kevin secretly thought that if she had resembled her brother, he might have doted on her even more. It was a feeling he could never voice aloud.
“Hello, Marianna. It’s Father.”
Marianna was the daughter left behind by Kevin’s late brother, but because Kevin had married Catherine, she had become his adopted child.
So he treated her not as an uncle, but as her father.
As Marianna, who had become steadier on her feet each day, toddled happily toward him, Kevin picked her up.
“Da–.”
“That’s right. Father. Marianna is so clever.”
He listened to reports from Marianna’s nurse and maid and nodded approvingly at her growth.
It was their usual routine.
Then, Kevin suddenly realized he had never once heard the nursemaids mention Catherine’s name.
“How much time does Catherine actually spend with Marianna?”
He had never met her here.
Kevin didn’t always come to Marianna’s room at the same time every day, and sometimes he arrived when the child was asleep — but still, not once had he run into Catherine.
“Lady Catherine… seldom comes here.”
“What…!? She’s the mother!”
“Among noblewomen, nearly half entrust their children entirely to wet nurses until about the age of five, my lord.”
I see.
There had been a time, long ago, when parents only began treating a child as part of the family once the child had survived past the age of five.
That old custom still lingered, leaving the care of crying infants — who could not yet speak — to the wet nurse.
But even beyond that, there were parents who left child-rearing entirely to tutors and maids.
It differed by family tradition — or perhaps simply by personality.
Kevin barely remembered his own early childhood, but he did recall that his older brother had always been kind.
He couldn’t remember his parents ever smiling at him or praising him.
It wasn’t that the Carmine family favored only the eldest son and neglected the younger — probably not.
Most likely, compared to his calm and composed brother, Kevin had been too restless and troublesome, so their parents had preferred to avoid dealing with him.
Even so, though Marianna was not his own child, Kevin made the effort to see her face almost every day — while her mother, Catherine, never even came to visit.
She clearly could never have truly loved his brother.
