Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 118

118. Exhibit No. 1

After returning to the Spencer estate, Richard immediately ran to the stables. Normally, he would have chosen his favorite horse, Sono, but since he couldn’t predict how far or how long he’d need to ride, he picked a large, young, red stallion instead.

He couldn’t be entirely sure how much of the Devonshire bastard’s words he could trust. Yet, deep inside, he couldn’t deny that a seed of belief had already taken root. It was an instinct, akin to an animal’s gut feeling—the kind that decided, in the heat of the hunt, which direction to pursue. This time, Richard turned his body in the direction Eurus had indicated.

And his instincts, combined with Eurus’s information, proved accurate in the early stages of the pursuit. Under a light, intermittent drizzle, Richard rode tirelessly for an entire day until he arrived at a relay station, where he found the horse Eurus had described. It was the one with the white mark on its flank.

Richard stared intently at the two brown horses with their heads buried in hay. Then he asked the station keeper, “When did these horses arrive?”

The keeper, a hunched-over old man past seventy, looked up at the imposing young nobleman standing before him. Wrapping his trembling hands together, he stammered out a reply.

“Oh, a carriage came this morning to swap out horses.”

“Bring me the records left by the coachman.”

At relay stations, those exchanging horses were required to verify their identity and have it recorded. However, Richard’s request was nothing short of a disaster for the old station keeper.

That morning, the coachman who had requested two horses had refused to show identification, instead tossing the old man a pouch brimming with gold coins. Judging by the weight, it was enough to live comfortably for a year without working.

For a poor old man scraping by, the choice between a valid ID and a suspicious pouch of gold was no choice at all. It was the first time in his career at the station that he had received such a sum. His eyes had gone wide with astonishment.

Bribes to conceal identities were commonplace in places like this. Even when identification was shown, there was no way to verify its authenticity. So the old man took the gold and left no record. In other words, there was no one’s identity to show the distinguished young noble.

Richard observed the trembling old man and quickly grasped the situation. However, he didn’t have the time to scold him now.

Suppressing his anger, he asked again, “Did you see who was in the carriage? What did they look like?”

“There was a young woman and a man who seemed to be her father. Both appeared to be nobles and wore expensive clothing.”

“Even the man who seemed like her father?”

“Yes? Y-yes, sir.”

“Do you remember the color of the woman’s dress?”

“I think it was purple.”

The old man answered timidly. Richard pressed his left temple as he tried to conjure an image of them.

Grace, having attended the masquerade, would naturally be dressed extravagantly. The violet dress she wore had been rushed by Freya’s favorite tailor, who had created the perfect gown in just two days. It was a color like violets in bloom.

But it made no sense for Viscount Lovelace to be dressed in fine clothing. How could a man who lived off a mistress’s handouts afford such extravagance?

Even hiring a carriage and coachman would have been impossible without money. The suspicion that Viscount Lovelace had a powerful and wealthy backer was solidifying into fact.

Whoever had supported Viscount Lovelace didn’t care about Grace. What could a powerful backer possibly see in her? Their true target was likely Richard Spencer himself. Each time this realization sank in, Richard felt an overwhelming guilt toward Grace.

“The young woman… did she seem unwell in any way?”

“Not particularly…”

Richard felt a small sense of relief. At least she hadn’t been gagged or bound.

“Do you remember which direction the carriage went?”

“Yes, sir, it went that way.”

The station keeper pointed toward one of the two forked roads. Without a word, Richard mounted one of the better-conditioned horses resting at the station. He handed over his identification badge.

As the old man transcribed the name engraved on the badge onto his records, his shoulders trembled. Ingrintians who didn’t recognize the name Spencer were few and far between.

As soon as he set down the quill, the great noble gathered up his identification badge and mounted his horse, riding off in the direction indicated by the station keeper. Watching Richard’s receding figure in a daze, the station keeper grabbed the two pouches of gold coins he had received that morning, abandoned his work, and hurried home.

Had I known he was from the Spencer family, I wouldn’t have lied. The old man mumbled in terror.

At home, he hastily packed a few belongings and prepared to leave. One of the pouches in the station keeper’s possession had been given to him as payment for pointing Richard in the wrong direction. If the Spencer noble discovered this, the station keeper had no confidence he’d survive.

***

While Richard Spencer sped off in the wrong direction like an arrow, Sebastian led the mounted soldiers to the first relay station where Richard had passed through.

Sebastian’s feeble stamina couldn’t endure the prolonged ride. By the end, he was clinging desperately to someone’s back like a sack of baggage.

When they arrived at the station, it was completely deserted. Apart from the horses in the stables, there wasn’t a single soul to be found.

Thankfully, the identification records lying haphazardly on the ground bore Richard Spencer’s name. The horses belonging to the Spencer estate were also resting in the stable, indicating that the Young Earl had indeed passed through this place.

Moreover, the brown horse with the white mark, which Richard had mentioned, was present. This confirmed that Grace Montague’s carriage had also stopped here.

So far, so good. The problem was determining which direction they had taken from this point.

When they left the relay station, the road forked into two paths. It was impossible to guess where Richard Spencer might have gone or where the carriage carrying Grace had headed.

Should they return to Lydon, or should they continue searching for Richard Spencer?

In hindsight, they should have conducted a preliminary investigation. At the very least, they could have identified a few potential destinations. Even knowing that the Young Earl hadn’t had the luxury of time, Sebastian still berated himself for not insisting more strongly.

Recalling various incidents that had occurred when he failed to stop Richard in the past, Sebastian sighed heavily. In any case, trying to dissuade Richard Spencer was usually a futile endeavor.

“First, let’s change the horses. I’ll take a look around in the meantime.”

Sebastian gave the instructions dejectedly to the soldiers. He had brought a total of ten men. Even preparing and arranging the horses would take considerable time.

In the meantime, Sebastian dragged his unsteady legs toward the forked road. He hoped to find some trace of the horse Richard Spencer had ridden.

Ingrint’s climate was truly abysmal. People from sunny Gallia or Italine always complained about it when they came to visit. Except for the brief summer from June to August, Ingrint’s skies were usually overcast or drizzling. The gloomy, misty weather perpetually muddied the ground.

Normally, encountering such muck underfoot would prompt Sebastian, a refined and educated man, to curse. But today, he couldn’t have been more grateful for the sticky, muddy paths.

One of the forked paths bore a clear trail of horse hooves deeply imprinted in the mud. According to the relay station records, Richard Spencer had passed through here just an hour earlier. It was highly likely that these distinct, fresh tracks belonged to his horse.

On the other path, there were also hoof prints, but they were accompanied by faint wheel tracks. Judging by their blurred edges, it seemed the drizzle around midday had softened their outlines. This suggested that the carriage had traveled this way earlier in the day.

Who was in the carriage wasn’t clear, but the tracks indicated that someone had passed through.

Ingrint’s wretched weather would undoubtedly make it a powerhouse for espionage and crime thrillers in the future. Sebastian mused absently, glancing away from the muddy trail.

At that moment, Exhibit No. 1, a piece of evidence revealing who had been in the carriage, caught his eye, glinting amidst the mire. It was a violet flower-shaped ornament from Grace’s dress.

Thanks to this discovery, Sebastian confirmed who had been in the carriage and which direction it had gone. Overwhelmed with emotion, he clutched Grace’s flower ornament tightly and sprinted back to the relay station.