Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 11

11. Misunderstandings and Prejudices

It takes just three seconds for someone to form a first impression of another. In merely three seconds, people decide whether they like or dislike the person before them.

“Ah, hello, Young Earl Spencer. T-to think I’d have the chance to meet you like this, it’s truly like a d-dream come true.”

Her voice was like water droplets dripping from a wrung-out cloth. After swallowing dryly several times, the woman finally managed to stammer out her greeting, causing Richard Spencer’s face to subtly harden.

Decidedly, dislike.

Stammering aside, he hadn’t anticipated such an absurd greeting. No lady in Lydon would ever dare to say such a thing so directly to a man upon their first meeting.

And what on earth did she mean by meeting him being a “dream come true”? Did she hope to establish a connection with an influential noble? Or was she trying to gain favor with Lady Mary Montague? Her opening words were utterly incomprehensible.

She must have rushed to Lydon as soon as Lady Montague promised to make her an adopted daughter. Perhaps she expected to live a life of luxury as a noblewoman’s daughter.

Richard resolved not to trust Lady Montague’s assessment of her as “innocent and kind-hearted.” Just as he had predicted, the woman standing before him was undeniably bold.

He forced his downcast eyes to look up. His left eyelid moved slower than his right, like opening glass panes layered with frost one by one.

At that moment, Richard was taken aback once more. Grace Gurton was smiling radiantly. Her face, flushed with rosy cheeks, exuded unrestrained happiness. She looked like she wanted to dance in celebration of her rise from orphanhood to newfound status.

This irked Richard Spencer greatly. Nevertheless, he forced himself to extend a stiff, reluctant greeting, not wishing to appear rude in front of Lady Montague.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The woman suddenly seemed to recall something and introduced herself. At the same time, her right hand hesitantly rose.

“I-I’m Grace Gurton…”

Richard briefly shook the hand she awkwardly extended, out of courtesy, before letting go. He detested physical contact, and her pretentious attempt at mimicking noble etiquette, despite not yet being formally adopted, made him suppress a scoff.

“Richard Spencer… Miss Gurton.”

He had no intention of addressing her as “Lady” Gurton. She wasn’t formally part of the Montague family yet, and he had no intention of supporting her adoption.

Grace withdrew her hand and began fiddling with the fingers Richard had briefly touched. Finally, she shifted her gaze, which had been fixed on the floor, toward him.

“I-I often went to watch rugby matches at Grentabridge… to see you, Young Earl.”

“……”

Richard was left speechless. One of her eyes was a reddish-brown hue, while the other was a mix of gray and violet.

His suspicions from the drawing room had been spot on. There couldn’t be two people with such distinctive eyes.

Yes, the boy from the lecture hall, the woman in the rugby stands, and Grace Gurton were one and the same. The audacious woman before him, now beaming with uncontainable joy, had been circling around him for quite some time.

Did she approach him directly because Lady Montague hadn’t introduced her? Did she even disguise herself as a boy on one occasion? As his mind pieced everything together, Richard felt a surge of irritation rising to his head.

Given the Montague couple’s extended stays abroad, she likely couldn’t meet them easily and had therefore targeted him instead. Perhaps she thought that by acquainting herself with him and building rapport, she could get closer to Richard Spencer and ultimately benefit from it.

The type of women who frequented rugby pitches was predictable. Countless townswomen went there hoping to snag a nobleman and improve their lot in life.

A modest and dignified woman would never set foot in such a male-dominated environment. That much was certain.

Undoubtedly, Charles Dodgson—the eccentric professor—hadn’t instilled such values in her. By mingling with the boisterous and unruly women in the stands, Grace Gurton revealed her true nature.

“This is the first time I’ve seen Grace talk so much. Now, instead of standing around, why don’t we all sit down?”

Lady Montague, who had been observing them with sparkling eyes, moved her legs. She sat at the head of the table, with Richard Spencer and Grace Gurton seated to her right and left, respectively.

“Grace, Richard is like a son to me. He’s a cherished nephew,” Mary said kindly, her gaze falling on Grace. Grace, unable to hide her pride, nodded several times in response.

“Richard must have been quite popular at Grentabridge too, wasn’t he?”

Mary’s question was playful, though she already knew the answer. As the heir of the Spencer family and a man of striking appearance, Richard Spencer was undoubtedly a notable presence.

“I imagine many young ladies must have admired him.”

Grace almost forgot her composure and answered loudly in agreement. She swallowed the urge to enthusiastically affirm, sending the words down her throat along with her tea. Once again, she broke into a bright smile.

Richard Spencer had been the dream and hope of Grace Gurton, as well as many young women in the town of Grentabridge. Though unattainable, he was a figure who enriched their lives simply by being observed from afar.

“That never happened, Aunt,” Richard replied, visibly uncomfortable with the subject. His distaste for flattery and exaggerated remarks was apparent in his stiff expression.

“T-the Young Earl was truly an object of admiration,” Grace blurted out, interrupting Richard. Her lack of restraint made Richard’s right eyebrow twitch slightly in displeasure.

How thoughtless.

“Really?”

“Yes. A-actually, I was one of them… I, I really admired you.”

Ah, so this was it. She was clearly trying to flatter Lady Montague by feigning shyness while saying exactly what she wanted to say. Grace’s fingers fidgeted as if embarrassed, but her words flowed freely.

Seeing her, dressed in a shimmering, high-quality gown, Richard almost sighed. At the rugby pitch, she had seemed to wear humble clothing, but now it was evident she had already won over Lady Montague and acquired several expensive dresses.

“Well, that’s wonderful. Now all that’s left is for you to see Grace in a favorable light, Richard,” Mary said with a slight lift of her eyebrows, glancing slyly at Richard.

It was maddening to see this kind, wealthy, and pure-hearted middle-aged woman falling prey to an obvious schemer. Richard felt a desperate urge to remove Lady Montague from Grace’s clutches—even if it meant physically carrying her away.

“Actually, Grace,” Mary said, turning fully toward her. She offered Grace a mysterious smile that seemed to hold a deeper meaning. “After long discussions, Anthony and I have decided to adopt you as our daughter.”

The moment Richard heard these words, he barely suppressed a groan. It felt like watching an innocent maiden fall victim to a cunning con artist’s proposal.

Turning his gaze, Richard shot a sharp look at Grace Gurton, who sat primly across from him. He didn’t need to hear her response; her expression already gave it away.

Grace, wide-eyed, listened intently to Mary’s words. Her quickened breaths, flushed cheeks, and restless fingers were telltale signs of her barely contained excitement. It was obvious that she had been eagerly awaiting this moment.

Of course, she would be. Noble couples as virtuous as the Montagues were exceedingly rare in Ingrint. Moreover, they were quietly known to be extraordinarily wealthy. Though the extent of their assets wasn’t publicly disclosed, even the Chelsea mansion where the three of them now sat was beyond the reach of most fortunes.

A woman pretending to be coy couldn’t possibly have overlooked such wealth. If she had been living under the care of Professor Dodgson, her skill with numbers must have been excellent.

“I hope you’ll give us your blessing,” Mary added.

This was inevitable. Richard internally lamented, pleading silently for Mary not to proceed down this path.

Richard Spencer sat quietly, his hands wrapped around his teacup, waiting for Grace’s reply. Mary Montague did the same.

Finally, Grace Gurton’s voice rang out clearly in the drawing room.

“…W-would it be alright if I refused?”