MDIHC 18

018

The lady who recommended Miss Reynold glanced over the faces gathered at the table before speaking to me—probably to check if anyone close to the Earl of Aitley was present.

“Honestly, it’s only because Miss Reynold is such a good person that she managed to endure it for so long.”

Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be anyone from the Earl of Aitley’s family, so the lady finally opened her mouth. Still, perhaps out of caution, she lowered her voice.

“I heard the Earl of Aitley’s household asked her to come back as soon as her leg heals, so maybe they’re aware of the situation. But who in their right mind would want to go back to a house with that devil of a child? For Miss Reynold’s sake, I do hope the Winchester household hires her instead.”

Whether it was because they were close or because Miss Reynold had a truly good reputation, the lady expressed her opinion passionately.

“I’ll try to get in touch.”

Thinking of Miss Reynold as someone who suffered under Daniel’s scoundrel of an ex-husband made me feel sympathy. I genuinely wanted to meet her.

And the fact that she had endured such a man for a long time gave me a vague expectation that she must be a very diligent person.

“You’re certainly enthusiastic.”

As I was listening seriously to the noblewomen’s deep discussion about their children’s education and famous private tutors, someone suddenly threw in a comment next to me.

Judging by the words alone, it sounded like praise, but the tone—laced with thorns—made it clear that it was anything but.

When I turned my head, I wasn’t surprised to see a woman looking at me with a twisted expression and a mocking smile.

“It’s all pointless anyway, isn’t it? Everyone knows the Viscount Winchester doesn’t care much for that daughter of his. You don’t have to pretend to be so interested in her.”

…What is she saying?

“She’s a child with unknown origins in the first place. There are even rumors that she’s not his daughter at all. They say he just picked up an orphan he felt sorry for on the battlefield.”

…Excuse me?

“She doesn’t even look much like him, does she?”

Apparently thinking that last remark would drive the point home, the woman smirked after saying it. And I could clearly read the implication behind her words and expression.

That Daniel might not be the Viscount Winchester’s daughter.

While I was getting increasingly irritated at this woman doubting Daniel’s origins, the noblewomen around us began whispering among themselves.

“Well, I have heard that rumor.”

“Come to think of it, she doesn’t resemble him much aside from the blue eyes. And even then, her eyes are a deep blue, unlike the Viscount’s icy light blue.”

“Oh my, have you seen the rumored daughter? I’ve never even caught a glimpse. The late Countess Winchester hid her so well.”

“I happened to catch a glimpse a long time ago, when I was invited to the Winchester estate. Now that I think about it, she had platinum blonde hair. No one in the Winchester family has ever had that hair color.”

“That’s right. That shade isn’t common at all. Even blonde is rare, but platinum blonde? It’s practically unheard of.”

“Then maybe she got that hair from her birth mother?”

The conversation, which had started out of gossip, slowly veered toward Daniel’s biological mother. I, swept up in the flow and unsure when to interject, suddenly found myself clenching my fists under the table from nervous tension.

“Um… does anyone here know anything about Daniel’s real mother?”

At my question, the conversation abruptly stopped. Instead, the women began glancing at me, then at each other, gauging reactions.

“I heard she was the child of a maid who once worked at the Winchester estate.”

The woman who had recommended Miss Reynold spoke first again. I was starting to suspect that perhaps she wasn’t particularly close to Miss Reynold—she was just the talkative type.

“She was a very pretty maid, and she fell in love with the young master she served. But as soon as she gave birth, the Countess—now deceased—immediately kicked her out of the estate.”

“That’s different from what I heard. I was told the Viscount fell for a beautiful foreign woman during the war, and the child was born from their union. In that woman’s tribe, blonde and even platinum blonde hair is common.”

“Oh my, I heard yet another story! I was told that the child was born from a relationship between a young Viscount and a beautiful priestess. Remember how he served briefly as a temple guard years ago? The timeline fits perfectly since the child is six now.”

“Oh dear! That does line up, doesn’t it? Then who is this priestess? Is she still in the temple?”

“Oh please—how could a priestess who gave birth to a child still be allowed to stay? She was probably cast out long ago.”

Each woman confidently brought up their version of Daniel’s mother. But none of them truly knew anything—it was all speculation and rumor.

Still, there were a couple of common threads.

“She was very beautiful,” and “no one knows who she was.”

Given how beautiful and adorable Daniel is even at such a young age, it made sense to assume her mother was a great beauty.

Even those who hadn’t seen Daniel’s face knew how handsome the Viscount was, so it was natural to imagine that only an extraordinary beauty could have caught his eye.

“Who could she possibly be?”

I was curious. This woman, who must be so different from someone like me.

“She’s definitely a foundling. Just picked up off the battlefield.”

The same rude young lady once again brought out her assertion, confidently.

“Why else would the former Countess of Winchester have hidden her so thoroughly? And the Viscount is the same. He must have heard all these rumors, but he’s never bothered to deny them. That proves it—she’s not his blood.”

Oh, for crying out loud! Does she think just because she has a mouth, every word out of it is worth hearing?

“Excuse me!”

I couldn’t hold it back anymore and burst out.

“Have you even seen our Daniel in person?”

The woman glared at me in response instead of answering. Which meant: no, she hadn’t.

“She looks so much like the Viscount, it’s almost uncanny. If you’d seen her, you’d never say something like that. Do you have any idea how adorable and precious she is? Her hair is smooth and shiny like morning dew woven into silk—just gorgeous! You mentioned her eyes earlier, right? Sure, they’re not exactly like the Viscount’s icy blue, but they’re a deep, clear blue like a tranquil lake—absolutely stunning. And those big, round eyes? Just too cute for words! Her nose too—she’s still young, but you can already tell it has the same elegant bridge as the Viscount’s. You know what I’m talking about—his nose is so sharp, a fly could slip and fall to its death! Daniel has the same nose: high, neat, and that round little nose tip? It’s adorable! Her cheeks are so soft and plump and squishy, it’s impossible to resist! Her small, chubby little fingers? So cute! And when she toddles around on her tiny legs and feet, I swear it looks like a little doll walking! Our Daniel is really, truly, the cutest child ever!”

In the end, I couldn’t contain myself and jumped up from my seat, fists clenched in passionate defense.

“……”

Silence fell across the table.

…Oh no. Did I get too worked up?

“Ahem. Anyway, that’s how it is.”

I quietly sat back down and daintily lifted my teacup, pinky finger raised in the most elegant fashion.

Whew… this place really does serve great tea…