Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 112

112. Duke of Devonshire’s Estate

Freya Spencer had promised to treat Grace Montague kindly. And she was keeping that promise. At least, by her standards of kindness.

Freya Spencer, the treasured jewel of the Spencer family, the goddess of beauty, and everyone’s first love, had disliked Grace from the very beginning. This was because Grace was, in Freya’s opinion, a worthless woman completely beneath her.

Unlike her brother Richard, however, Freya had neither the opportunity nor the intention to meet with Lady Mary Montague often, so she decided to cut Grace out of her mind entirely. While staying at the Bath villa, the only times they encountered each other were during breakfast or the occasional tea time.

After all, there weren’t many people Freya liked. Until recently, Richard Spencer and her nanny had been the only ones. Now, one more had been added.

When her beloved brother announced his intention to marry the daughter of Annabel Gurton, the social butterfly of the ton, Freya felt like fainting on the spot. If she could have, she would have opposed the idea until the very end.

However, Freya chose to change her perspective. If Spencer’s heir could marry a lowborn woman, clean her slate by making her a Montague, and then marry her, Freya thought it might set a precedent that would help her own romantic aspirations.

Thus, she offered to maintain a friendly relationship with Grace Montague as a condition of her deal with Richard. And now, at the Duke of Devonshire’s estate, she was busily dragging Grace around while searching for her target.

“W-where are we going, Freya?”

Grace panted as she asked. Wandering through unfamiliar places at a quick pace while wearing a mask was no easy feat.

Richard Spencer had plenty of reasons not to attend the masquerade ball, but it was situations like this that worried him most. As soon as he stepped into the Duke’s estate, he was practically dragged away by Charles Harold, the Marquess of Winchester and father of Graham Harold, and Ares Cavendish, the Duke of Devonshire.

Had he not come at all, he wouldn’t have had to deal with it. But since he was here, refusing wasn’t an option. As one of the three grand nobles, Richard, representing the Spencer family, couldn’t avoid attending their private meetings, especially since he had essentially skipped this year’s social season.

Thus, Richard reluctantly left Grace behind, promising to meet her in the temporary garden pavilion set up for the fireworks display—a space arranged for high-ranking nobles to enjoy the show in comfort.

Meanwhile, Grace found herself being led all over the Duke of Devonshire’s estate by Freya Spencer. It was absurd, but Richard’s repeated instructions to stay close to Freya left her with little choice.

“F-Freya, this seems like an area meant only for the duke’s family,” Grace whispered anxiously.

Freya had bypassed the ballroom where the masquerade was taking place and ventured deeper into the maze-like interior of the estate. Her obsessive gaze darted around as if she were searching for something.

Even Grace, who wasn’t well-versed in social etiquette, knew that exploring someone else’s home like this was a grave faux pas. She anxiously shuffled her feet, wishing they could return to the ballroom.

“Shh! Be quiet.”

Freya placed a slender finger against her bright red lips. From somewhere, the sound of men talking echoed faintly. It didn’t quite qualify as a conversation, as only one of the two seemed to be speaking.

Suddenly, at the far end of the corridor, a flash of golden light glimmered like purified gold. It was the hair of a tall, slender man. He tilted his head slightly toward the brown-haired man chattering incessantly beside him, nodding absentmindedly.

“Grace.”

Freya turned toward Grace with a faint, mischievous smile gracing her lips. Her voice was as sweet as molasses as she spoke.

“Would you like to head to the garden first?

“W-what? What do you mean?”

Grace looked around nervously as she asked.

The Duke of Devonshire’s estate, with its ivory-colored walls adorned with ornate carvings, was as grand as the Spencer estate. Its vast and intricate interior only added to its grandeur.

“I’m meeting Harmonia—no, the Young Lady of Devonshire. It might take some time. You’ll be fine finding your way to the garden on your own, right?”

“Ah, no. I-I don’t even know where we are. I-I’ve never been to a place like this before.”

At Grace’s nervous reply, Freya made a slightly displeased face and gestured toward the direction they had come from.

“Walk straight that way, turn right at the second corridor, and then go down the hall. You’ll see four walnut doors. Go through the third door, face left, and walk diagonally southwest. You’ll find a staircase. Go down the stairs, and you’ll see the passage leading to the garden across from you.”

“……”

“You can do it, Grace.”

The young poppy flower caused a faint sense of disorientation. Grace, paralyzed by Freya’s curt tone, stood frozen for a few seconds, unable to respond.

Taking advantage of the moment, Freya Spencer disappeared as if fleeing. And just like that, Grace found herself abruptly left in the middle of another Wonderland.

***

The age gap between Freya and the Spencer twins was five years. Because of the significant difference, Freya rarely had the opportunity to spend time with her brothers.

After Freya’s birth, the twins became preoccupied with their studies under private tutors. By the time Freya was old enough to play, the twins were estranged, practically enemies for reasons she didn’t fully understand. The idea of all three siblings gathering to play together was unimaginable.

The Countess of Spencer’s affection was directed exclusively toward Lancelot Spencer. However, unlike with Richard Spencer, she didn’t entirely neglect Freya, though her kindness only extended as far as giving Freya a passing smile. This was largely thanks to her father, who, among his three children, showed smiles and affection only to his daughter.

Freya’s development lagged behind that of her peers, a source of great embarrassment for the Countess. As a result, the Countess subjected her daughter to harsh discipline. Whenever Freya sucked her fingers or bit her nails, the Countess would take out a foul-smelling bottle of medicine from her bedroom drawer as punishment.

“Freya.”

“How did you know I was here, Richard?”

“You’re so lovable that you stand out wherever you are.”

Richard Spencer would sometimes seek out Freya’s hiding spots and pull back the curtains she hid behind. How he always managed to find her was a mystery, but whenever he discovered her biting her nails and grimacing at the taste of the bitter medicine, he would secretly hand her a few molasses candies before leaving.

By nature, Freya wasn’t a mild child. She thrived on attention and couldn’t bear to be overlooked. In essence, she was a true embodiment of self-love.

Her misfortune was that she didn’t receive her mother’s affection, which was entirely devoted to Lancelot. Outside the Spencer estate, Freya was idolized and adored, but at home, Richard Spencer’s molasses candies were the only form of love she received.

Over time, Freya became increasingly twisted. Her longing for what she couldn’t have made her even more arrogant. Extreme traits often stem from opposing forces, after all.

While rare, there were people who didn’t like Freya. However, what unsettled her even more than dislike was indifference.

Malice could be countered with dominance. She could either turn it into goodwill or eliminate it entirely. But indifference—she could never grow accustomed to it. Freya Spencer spent countless sleepless nights haunted by the man who had been so indifferent to her it bordered on rudeness.

“What’s your name?”

“…Why do you ask?”

“Don’t you know who I am?”

“Do I need to know?”

He was Eurus, the illegitimate son of Ares Cavendish, Duke of Devonshire. Born to a lowly actress, he hadn’t even been granted the Cavendish name.

Eurus was so strikingly handsome that even Freya Spencer, upon first seeing him, momentarily forgot how to speak. Handsome didn’t quite do him justice.

He embodied contradictions: innocence and maturity, fragility and strength, indolence and passion, arrogance and melancholy. These opposing qualities didn’t clash; instead, they created an intriguing harmony.

Freya frequently visited the Devonshire estate, hoping to catch a glimpse of Eurus. But her efforts were often in vain. Instead, she was greeted by Deimos Cavendish, the Devonshire heir she despised, who persistently pursued her.

So today, Freya used the masquerade as an excuse to come to the estate. She was tired of the usual formal visits, where she’d only end up seeing Deimos. This time, she hoped to finally have a proper encounter with Eurus.

Determined, Freya quickened her pace, her mask becoming warm from her breath. She was chasing the fleeting glimpse of the man she had seen earlier, someone who was impossible to overlook.