Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 116

116. At the Very End

“The Viscount must have left Lydon by now.”

The low voice was calm yet forceful. It was a firm assertion that even the deafening noise outside couldn’t shake.

Eurus. He was the illegitimate son of the Duke of Devonshire, as Sebastian had mentioned. Richard Spencer glanced at his face and briefly thought, So this is the bastard they were talking about.

“How do you know that?” Richard asked, scrutinizing Eurus from head to toe.

“As I was leaving through the back door, wondering if I should take a horse, I saw someone knock down your servant and load a young lady into a carriage.”

Richard clenched his teeth as he visualized the scene from Eurus’s description. Veins bulged on both sides of his forehead.

“And?”

“I followed them because it felt suspicious. To describe the carriage, it was black with no markings, had four wheels, and was drawn by two horses. Both horses were dark brown with no distinctive features, but I remember one had a white spot on its right flank. The coachman was a middle-aged man with a beard, wearing a reddish-brown coat.”

“What direction did the carriage head in? And why do you think it left Lydon?”

“That’s just my assumption.”

“Assumption?”

“I couldn’t follow them to the end, could I? The carriage headed west, so it’s not heading to the port. That means they’re escaping via land, and they’ll have to choose one of two roads to leave Lydon heading west.”

“Did you confirm which road they took?”

“I saw them heading north before I returned.”

Richard Spencer remained silent for a while. He had planned to search the city of Lydon first, but now the scope of the search had widened, complicating his thoughts.

That is, assuming this brat was telling the truth.

“Why should I believe you?”

“You don’t have to. It’s none of my concern.”

“Then why are you telling me this?”

Eurus smiled at Richard’s question and answered, “I ran into some trouble earlier. At that time, Grace Gurton—no, Lady Montague—helped me out of an uncomfortable situation.”

“Grace did?”

“That’s what it boils down to. That’s how it ended up.”

“So this is out of gratitude?”

“Hardly. Do you think I’d settle for such valuable information as a mere token of thanks?”

For a bratty bastard, he’s got some nerve.

Richard Spencer thought he finally understood why Ares Cavendish, the Duke of Devonshire, publicly flaunted the existence of his illegitimate son. This boy would grow to be someone Deimos Cavendish couldn’t rival. In fact, he might already be that person.

Freya Spencer was indeed sharp and intelligent. Judging by her taste in men, her judgment wasn’t bad either. The problem was that he was illegitimate.

If the Duke of Devonshire were to formally legitimize this boy, it might not be a bad idea to pair him with Freya, as she wished. Richard entertained the thought briefly. If so, Spencer’s influence could back Eurus as the heir…

“What do you want?” Richard asked.

Eurus lowered his gaze momentarily, then looked up and answered, “I’ll formally tell you that next time. If you find the young lady, the reward will have to be substantial.”

“And if I don’t find her?”

It was a scenario Richard considered impossible. He would find her no matter what. However, curious about what the bratty bastard would say, Richard asked again.

“You’ll still have to compensate me. Since I’ve seen it, the carriage’s trail will eventually be discovered. At least once or twice a day, they’ll have to change horses. When you find any trace of Lady Montague, you’ll know whether I’m telling the truth or not.”

Richard shook his head, exasperated. Whoever taught this bastard in the Devonshire household had done a decent job.

“And this is just my gut feeling,” Eurus added as he spoke his final words. “I doubt Viscount Lovelace acted alone in this.”

“If not alone, then you think he had accomplices?”

“Do you think Viscount Lovelace had the money and resources to pull this off?”

Where does this brat hear such things?

Richard felt his once-clouded thoughts becoming clearer after the servant’s confession. The bastard’s deductions were surprisingly plausible.

“Young Master!”

Sebastian burst through the side room’s door, his face pale as he dashed in. A seasoned attendant who had been briefed by the servants, his expression betrayed his alarm.

“Let’s go back now.”

Richard glanced briefly at the Devonshire bastard standing nearby. Eurus was smirking radiantly, as if pleased with himself.

He clearly had an agenda.

Those who’ve mastered hiding emotions can quickly discern the nature of a concealed smile. Richard Spencer dropped his own smile and walked past him. He couldn’t help but wonder what this bastard would demand in the future.

***

As soon as Richard entered the carriage, he gave instructions to Sebastian.

“Start by investigating everyone Viscount Lovelace has met recently.”

“Yes.”

In situations like this, absolute agreement and compliance were the best course of action. Even a single word of rebuttal could provoke an unpredictable reaction from a detective who had just lost his partner. Sebastian responded with greater courtesy than ever, all the while closely observing Richard Spencer’s grim face.

Was Viscount Lovelace truly someone with enough nerve to pull this off? Sebastian thought back to the pathetic figure of the Viscount, who couldn’t utter a word even when beaten by thugs, and pondered. Clearly, something didn’t add up, which was why the Young Earl had ordered him to investigate the people Lovelace had been meeting.

The Young Earl’s face, which had been as soft and sweet as cake frosting in recent days, was now parched and hardened. Life could be so unkind. After enjoying such blissful moments, he was once again caught in the middle of a crisis.

Sebastian swallowed hard, his throat as dry as parchment. If this matter wasn’t resolved properly, Richard Spencer’s life might become just as desolate as Sebastian’s parched throat.

Desperately hoping that wouldn’t be the case, Sebastian asked, “Do you have any further instructions?”

Richard replied as if he had been waiting for the question, “When we return to the estate, deploy people immediately. Send the largest group outside the northern boundary of Lydon and another group to the southeast as a precaution. Also, monitor the ships departing from the port.”

“Yes.”

“The carriage carrying Grace and the Viscount is an ordinary four-wheeled one, drawn by two brown horses. One of the horses has a white mark on its flank. The coachman is a middle-aged man with a beard, wearing a reddish-brown coat.”

Sebastian blinked in surprise. How does he know all this?

But he suppressed his curiosity. It was better to resolve questions later. Asking too many now would not yield a kind response from Richard Spencer.

“Lady Montague will be fine.”

Instead of asking questions, Sebastian chose the words he thought the Young Earl most wanted to hear.

“And you’ll find her soon. After all, what are great nobles if not capable of achieving the extraordinary?”

But Richard Spencer seemed not to hear a word. In his mind, Grace was gagged, her hands and feet bound, crying out in anguish.

To vividly imagine another person’s suffering without seeing it firsthand—this must be the empathy Sebastian had always preached about. He never expected to learn it in such a way.

Kidnapping. Ingrint was a civilized society. It wasn’t like Scotlin, where barbaric tribes ran rampant.

Grace was the betrothed of the Spencer heir. Most people wouldn’t even dare to think about abducting such a woman. No matter how desperate a person’s circumstances, it seemed impossible for them to entertain such thoughts.

Viscount Lovelace was a man whose courage was smaller than a pea. He might impulsively steal a ring, but to imagine abducting the woman set to marry Richard Spencer—that was beyond his capacity.

If what the Devonshire bastard said was true, someone must have instigated the Viscount. Given Lovelace’s shrewd nature, it must have been someone significant to sway him—someone who could rival Richard Spencer in influence.

Queen Anne, the Devonshire Ducal House, the Winchester Marquessate, and Duke Charlotte of Gallia. These were the four figures Richard had narrowed down as potential suspects.

The stubborn and capricious Queen Anne had been persuaded to relent by Anthony Montague. The Devonshire and Winchester houses had no motive for such an act.

The Duke of Charlotte, with whom Richard’s relationship had soured, was a possibility. But this was a kidnapping. Orchestrating the abduction of a foreign national could lead to diplomatic and security conflicts. Duke Charlotte surely knew this. It would be more in his nature to whine at the negotiation table than resort to such actions.

“I’ll pursue them immediately. Once the team is assembled, follow after me.”

Richard’s thoughts grew deeper, but in the end, he couldn’t pinpoint the mastermind. As Lancelot Spencer’s astute assessment suggested, Richard Spencer, at the very last moment, could never bring himself to be truly ruthless.