The sender of all that was the royal family. Basically, this was the work of my parents and brothers. The day after my pregnancy had been announced to the public, several carriages had arrived at the Prelier residence. They’d rolled up, guarded by a staunch squad of knights, and the royal crest had shone brilliantly on the carriage doors. It must’ve garnered the attention—and possibly the disgust—of all the nobles gathered in the capital for the high season. My family had likely pulled this stunt on purpose.
“I’m thankful, but they didn’t have to go this far,” I muttered to myself.
My husband smiled wryly from where he stood next to me. “It shows just how much they treasure you.”
This mountain of presents is the eccentric behavior of my parents suddenly bursting with affection for their future grandchild... Yeah, no way. Probably not.
In this world, I stood out in many ways. I was the first duchess regnant in the world and the pioneer of the world’s first medical facility project. On top of all that, the territory I’d been conferred was growing rapidly, so it made sense that everything I did attracted attention.
And I understood that not all attention would be of the favorable sort. There were people out there who simply hated the success of others. Plus, I was a young woman—that was enough grounds for more than a few people to despise me in a world that didn’t have the concept of equality.
Also, I was appointing personnel based on their talent without regard for their background, even though I’d been born into an aristocratic society. Taking into account the fact that I’d welcomed the entire Khuer tribe—a tribe from another nation—there were surely people hostile toward me.
However, they couldn’t antagonize me openly. Although I was no longer royalty in name, I was still the king’s daughter. Publicly denouncing me was far too risky. Nevertheless, there was no guarantee that those people would simply watch quietly next time.
Most of my opposition was waiting to see how things played out. For all the ostentatious number of titles to my name, my lifestyle was quite modest. I only attended the bare minimum number of social gatherings, so there was very little information on me.
How was my relationship with the king and queen? How close was I to my brothers, especially the crown prince? Many people were speculating on such questions with bated breath. If it turned out I was on bad terms with the crown prince, the drawbacks of befriending me would outweigh the benefits. Plus, now that I was with child and the crown prince was still unmarried, there was the quandary about succession.
My family had made the first move to subvert any wearisome calculations and tactical diplomacy. This mountain of gifts was the royal family letting everyone know that they celebrated Rosemary von Prelier’s pregnancy from the bottom of their hearts. There was no room to suspect that my relationships with my parents or brothers were anything but excellent. It was basically a statement to those who opposed me: If you, for some unlikely reason, decide to go after her, understand that the royal family will have her back.
They’d done this to ensure that followers of the crown prince wouldn’t try to harm me and my child. On top of that, their grand display of affection would make my path easier to walk as I continued to forge ahead with new, progressive policies.
“You are loved.”
“I worry I’ll get carried away if they pamper me excessively.”
“I think they do this because they know you would never.” Sir Leonhart pulled me in close by my waist in one practiced motion. “You’re not very good at depending on others.”
“I depend on you a lot, though.”
“No, you don’t. Not nearly enough,” he replied firmly.
I was struck speechless. Am I that bad? Am I so bad at depending on others that he has to use such a forceful tone?
“You’re hardworking and tenacious. Ordinarily, those would be positive traits, but for those of us watching over you, it worries us to death. After all, no matter how much pain or suffering you go through, you clench your teeth and endure.”
“Th-That’s not true...”
“It is. Look, the king himself took action without any prompting. Please recognize this fact.”
I had no rebuttal. There’s no statement more persuasive than that. It’s my father we’re talking about here. He’s the man who didn’t go easy on his own daughter when she was a child and always demands equal compensation for his help. For that man to make a move free of charge must mean it’s a serious matter.
“It still holds true even now,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not feeling very well, are you?” His arm, wrapped around my waist, tightened slightly as he spoke. He pulled me close, as though he were entreating me to lean on him.
“I’m not too—”
“Please don’t say that it’s normal to be unwell during pregnancy.”
He gave me the stink eye, and I instinctively swallowed the rest of my sentence.
“Everyone in the mansion is aware that your appetite has decreased. And we know that even though there are fewer foods that fit your palate because of morning sickness, you force yourself to consume what’s in front of you anyway.”
I sank into silence, unable to refute his words. It was true; because my morning sickness had started, the number of things I could stand had drastically plummeted. The smell of oil and meat made me nauseous, so I was prone to leaving main courses unfinished. I was surviving off of bread and fruit, but I fretted that it wouldn’t be enough nutrition for the baby. Hence, I put up with the nausea and forced food down the chute.
Perhaps it would be better if I requested dishes that I thought I could stomach, but it was hard to predict how my body would react since my condition varied from day to day. I would feel awful for putting the kitchen staff through all that trouble for nothing.
I asked for steamed fish and vegetables before, but in the end, I was only able to eat half of it. I also wasted the cake that Sir Leonhart bought for me. My servants tell me I should just eat whatever I like, but I’m sorry, I can’t do that. I’d hate to selfishly push people around because I’m pregnant.
“Rose.”
I jolted.
He took my hand and spun me like we were waltzing. I thought he’d turned me around to give me a hug from the front, but he peered down at me.
“Right now, you shouldn’t be worried about the feelings of those around you, and that includes mine. You shouldn’t force yourself to eat food you can’t stomach or stress about our finances.” He fixed his gaze straight on me—the serious glint in his eyes was almost scary. “What you should prioritize is your own health and our child’s. That’s all. Everything else is trivial and should not take up any space in your mind.”
“Leon...”
“I want you to be selfish. Tell me you want to eat this or buy that. Give me a shout, even when I’m working. Don’t hold back. If you want to go out to the garden, please call me anytime. If you want to eat outside because the weather is nice, or if you want sweets to be made with the fruit from the garden, let me know.”
I felt a pang in my chest, like my heart was being squeezed. Seeing Sir Leonhart desperately exhausting his vocabulary to convince me made me realize that I’d worried him again.
Because of my memories of when I was a Japanese person, I always feel guilty when I waste food. My aversion to wasting gifts—and feeling like it’s out of the question to abuse my power for my own convenience—are both mindsets that are deeply ingrained in me. Everyone around me more or less understands my way of thinking, so no one tries to force me to do anything. They brainstorm refreshing menus that a pregnant woman might be able to eat and find me delicious seasonal fruits.
Everyone watches over me in a considerate way that won’t bruise my heart. But when I give my history a second look, I see now that I’m awful at depending on other people. No wonder my father took it upon himself to do something.
Come to think of it, my parents didn’t send furniture or items only for children; there was also an exquisite-looking couch addressed to me. They even considered my need for clothes—the design and size are up in the air, but several of the fabric bolts and advance orders for a tailor are presents for me. My mother left a note on the fabrics that are to be used for maternity dresses—all of which have nice textures and are of the finest quality.
It was then that the realization truly hit me.
Oh. I’m very loved.
Joy took root in my heart.
“Is it okay if I impose on you?” I wrapped my hands around Sir Leonhart’s back and squeezed him in return. With my ear pressed against his chest, I could hear his breath hitch.
He looked at me eagerly. “Of course. Whether it be a cake baked by the palace pâtissier or fruit from a distant kingdom, whatever you wish for will be yours. It matters not if it is a tree that produces gems or a jewel that hangs from a dragon’s neck; I will grant whatever you desire.”
Which moon am I the princess of? I’m cracking up! I looked up and met Sir Leonhart’s eyes, which were brimming with expectation.
“In that case... I want cookies.”
“Cookies?” His puzzled expression had Is that all? written all over it.
I nodded, answering his unvoiced question. “Mm-hmm. Leon, I want you to bake me cookies.”
“What?”
The stunned look on Sir Leonhart’s face was oh so very funny. I couldn’t hold back anymore and burst into laughter.