Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 126

126. Praise Makes Lions Dance

Richard Spencer’s birthday falls on February 29. His twin brother, Lancelot Spencer, was born eight minutes later on March 1. Every year, the twins’ birthday party was held on March 1. The official reason was that Richard’s birthday only came once every four years, making it difficult to celebrate. However, the real reason was that the Countess focused solely on Lancelot.

Finally, after the New Year passed, February’s last week arrived. As always, February 28 would soon lead into March 1, the last day of winter turning to spring. Richard’s birth date wouldn’t come for another two years.

If only we had met two years earlier, thought Grace. Then I could have genuinely celebrated Richard Spencer’s twentieth birthday in Grentabridge.

Grace stole a sideways glance at Richard’s profile as they walked together. Today, as always, Richard was handsome, dignified, and captivating.

St. James’s Park near the Spencer estate had a long lake, reminiscent of the scenery in Cherry Hinton, Grentabridge. Grace loved this park and liked it even more after learning that Richard often strolled here before entering college.

Last winter, Grace and Richard had frequently walked along the lake in the park. After Richard’s broken leg healed, the Spencer family’s physician recommended light exercise to the Young Earl. Using rehabilitation as an excuse, Richard held Grace’s hand tightly and ventured outside almost daily.

“Ri-Richard, the daffodil buds are already coming up,” Grace exclaimed, darting toward the water’s edge to admire the bright yellow buds. Watching Grace sit beside the daffodils, Richard nearly forgot his previous dislike for the flowers.

They’re bad for the heart.

The heart disease that plagued Mary Montague manifested sporadically in Spencer women, skipping generations. Fortunately or unfortunately, it didn’t affect the men.

So why does my chest hurt so often? It felt like someone was punching his chest relentlessly, and it always happened while watching Grace.

Spring had arrived at St. James’s Park and in Richard Spencer’s life. The warm glow of spring reached even the man born at winter’s end, who had spent his days shuttered against the icy storms.

The daffodils Grace admired would soon bloom fully, their petals swaying gently in the warm breeze. They would stroll amid the daffodil clusters and, a few days later, marvel at the pink cherry blossoms in bloom.

And then June would arrive, the day he could give Grace Montague the Spencer name. He couldn’t tell her yet, but he didn’t plan on leaving the bedroom for a week—or maybe even a month—after the wedding.

Or perhaps they could go to Blenheim Palace immediately after the ceremony. Grace would surely love it there. They could reserve an entire floor for themselves…

By next year, Grace’s belly might be rounded. Hopefully with a daughter. Spencer men were notoriously weak to daughters, and Richard was no exception.

If they had a daughter, he’d take Grace to the Bath villa for recovery. After childbirth, Grace’s body would need rest and care. Once she recovered, they could plan for a Spencer son…

If they had a daughter, Richard hoped she’d resemble Grace. It would be troublesome if she grew to 6.3 feet tall like him. Not that he’d mind, but he’d prefer a small, adorable girl with Grace’s lovely eyes.

As for a son, Richard wanted him to inherit his appearance: Spencer’s fiery red hair, light green eyes, and sturdy physique. He hoped for a strong and healthy boy, immune to illness, whose eligibility as heir would never be questioned.

What name should I give him? Certainly not James or Elaine after his grandparents. What’s so great about those names?

In a few years, he’d bring his toddling children here to St. James’s Park. They’d sit together and share scones…

“Young Master, would you like a scone?”

Sebastian interrupted Richard’s musings, waving a grease-stained brown bag from behind.

Fixing his gaze on the rustling bag, Richard abruptly stood. Without waiting for a response, Sebastian spread out a clean white cloth at their secret spot.

Ha, what terrible timing.

Here he was, meticulously planning out his life, and Sebastian had to bring up scones. Richard Spencer had never devoted himself so passionately to envisioning his future.

“Se-Sebastian, you’re so perceptive. I-I was feeling a bit hungry.”

Really?

Richard’s ears twitched like a cat’s. Well, maybe Sebastian wasn’t such a terrible attendant. In his own way, he was a valuable asset to the Spencer family.

The warm aroma of the scones Sebastian had set out wafted through the air. Without realizing it, the Young Earl swallowed a bit of saliva.

“I-I tried these once while teaching in Dockland,” Grace said, taking a bite of the crumbly scone and smiling brightly.

“T-there were so many that I couldn’t finish them all, b-but the students absolutely loved them.”

Sebastian suppressed the urge to confess that the hundreds of scones had been his substitute for the hundreds of flowers Richard had initially wanted to order. He hoped Grace would pull the reins on the lion of a man seated before her if she ever found out.

“Originally, the Young Earl intended to decorate the classroom with fresh flowers.”

“F-flowers?”

Grace’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Yes, but I stopped him. What use would flowers be to impoverished students?” Sebastian said, clearing his throat as he sought Grace’s agreement, carefully avoiding Richard’s intense glare.

“T-that’s so romantic!”

“Yes, it is, very romantic… Wait, pardon?”

“A-and practical too.”

“Practical…?”

“I-if the classroom had been decorated with flowers, t-the students would have absolutely loved it. F-for many of them, it would have been their first time seeing something so beautiful.”

“…Well, that’s true.”

“I-it would have improved their focus and even boosted learning efficiency.”

Why does this connect back to learning?

Grace Montague was as unpredictable as ever. Sebastian found himself utterly baffled by her non-mathematical, illogical conclusions.

“Plus, e-expensive flowers could be resold, which would also benefit the students, m-making it practical as well.”

Is that so…?

Why does this oddly make sense?

While Sebastian was at a loss for words, Richard Spencer’s expression grew more triumphant by the second. Eventually, he fixed Sebastian with a reproachful glare.

“You see, I told you we should have decorated the classroom with fresh flowers, Sebastian.”

Sebastian blinked a few times. Is this what it would feel like to visit a land where people had three noses? Or perhaps like being a regular person treated as strange by a cult?

Then, Sebastian met Grace’s gaze. She smiled sweetly and gave him a playful wink.

Ah, so that’s it…

Looking at Richard Spencer, whose lips were still twitching with smug satisfaction, and Grace Montague, who smiled serenely with a finger lightly pressed to her lips, Sebastian had an epiphany. He should have praised the brat more often.

Back when Richard Spencer was a boy, Sebastian had been in his early twenties. He wasn’t a harsh or cruel teacher, but neither had he been a particularly nurturing one.

Out of concern, he had scolded, lectured, and even occasionally gossiped. He hadn’t held back his sharp words because Richard had to be perfect—even more so than perfect—to secure his position as the Spencer heir.

Still, there had probably been moments when Richard needed unconditional encouragement. Some lessons come too late in life.

Sebastian set down the scone in his hand and looked at the daffodils blooming by the lake. They reminded him of the young Richard Spencer from years ago.

“Sebastian.”

“Yes, Young Master?”

“This year has February 29. So why does it feel like my birthday is being ignored again?”

It must have been when Richard was eight or twelve years old—most likely eight.

“It’s not being ignored, my lord. You’ll celebrate it with Young Master Lancelot.”

“But that’s not my birthday.”

“You’re twins, so celebrating together doubles the joy.”

That had been his response back then. But perhaps it wasn’t the answer Richard Spencer had wanted to hear.

If I could go back to that time, what should I have said to keep him from feeling sad?

“Ri-Richard, your birthday is coming soon.”

Grace Montague’s voice interrupted Sebastian’s thoughts, her words pulling him back to the present. His ears perked up instinctively.