Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 128

128. The Proper Fiancé

“Except for being born eight minutes later, I’ve always been ahead of you.”

Lancelot’s taunt caused quite a stir.

Richard Spencer was a distinguished nobleman, heir to the Spencer Earldom, and acting representative of the current Earl, James Spencer. While not as obsessive as Prussen’s compulsive philosopher, Richard lived a disciplined life and exuded the refined elegance ingrained in him. Because of this, Richard maintained a restrained and temperate attitude in expressing affection toward Grace Montague. He believed this made him a composed and virtuous fiancé. Of course, this was Richard’s personal perception—Sebastian had a much different opinion.

Regardless, Richard eagerly anticipated his first night with Grace and avoided engaging in any behavior he deemed excessively decadent. A well-educated and proper fiancé should act accordingly.

Admittedly, his instincts as a lion occasionally surfaced, causing his body to react impulsively. However, Richard kept his fiery desires in check and waited patiently for their wedding in June.

Kisses…

That was the extent of the tender, heated moments Richard and Grace had shared. And even those had been initiated by Grace. To protect her honor, he planned to keep that fact a secret until his dying breath.

Spencer men received education in such matters from a young age. From the time Richard celebrated his tenth birthday with Lancelot, he attended lessons on ensuring the continuity of their lineage.

When Richard first learned about kissing, his cleanliness-obsessed nature left him nauseated. Just imagining it was unbearable. He couldn’t fathom that normal people engaged in such acts.

After all, isn’t the mouth for speaking and eating? How could pressing mouths together and exchanging saliva possibly symbolize affection? It was incomprehensible.

How is it any different from accidentally having someone’s spit land in your mouth during a conversation?

Richard resolved never to kiss anyone, even if he married Eleanor d’Estrée. After all, kissing wasn’t necessary to conceive a son.

But on the day he rescued Grace from Viscount Lovelace at the harbor, when her lips brushed over his face and occasionally grazed his own, he realized something. The mouth was capable of something far more powerful than speaking or eating.

For Richard Spencer, this was the vivid memory of their sharp, first kiss. Edmund Beaufort would have fainted if he had heard about it.

Since then, Richard had continued their “subtle” kisses. All he did was lift Grace onto the piano, press her against the wall, lay her diagonally across the desk in the study, or hold her close between trees in the garden. That was all.

To defend himself, it was necessary. Grace was small, and he was large. For their lips to meet, she had to stand on tiptoe, and he had to bend uncomfortably. Utilizing the surrounding environment was far more practical. Even military strategy classes emphasized using the terrain to one’s advantage.

As someone who had once seriously considered attending Dartmouth Naval Academy and becoming Ingrint’s next great war hero (before Grentabridge took precedence), Richard swore his intentions were purely tactical… not lecherous.

“Unavoidable” physical proximity occurred, but it was purely accidental—not planned. Richard Spencer was an honorable nobleman who knew restraint.

But Lancelot… that bastard…

Why was he so shameless?

Lancelot, outwardly gentle and soft-spoken, was secretly sly and scheming. A true Spencer should know how to control their beastly urges.

One could only imagine how much trouble Lancelot’s tutor, Dylan, endured. In contrast, Sebastian had the fortune of teaching a sharp-minded pupil like Richard Spencer.

Yet…

“Ri-Richard, what are you thinking?”

According to Greenwich Mean Time, today was February 28, precisely 4 PM. Grace Montague called the evening of February 28 during non-leap years “the 29th.” Specifically, from 6 PM until midnight, she considered it the 29th.

Thus, Grace had visited the Spencer mansion to celebrate the birthday of her fiancé, Richard Spencer, Young Earl of Spencer. Sebastian, unable to hide his weariness, escorted her to the drawing room, prepared tea, and quickly shut the door behind him before leaving.

“Lancelot is always quick, Lady Eleanor d’Estrée is already expecting… Ah, no, that’s not it.”

Richard attempted to recover from the words that had escaped his lips unfiltered, but he failed. Grace blinked her round, gentle eyes at him, patiently awaiting his next words. Pressured by her innocent gaze, Richard reluctantly explained briefly.

“Lancelot and Lady d’Estrée are going to be parents.”

“Re-really?”

“They haven’t even had the wedding yet. As Lancelot’s brother, it’s rather shameful.”

“Sh-shameful? No, it’s… it’s such wonderful news. We should, w-we should congratulate them when we see them at the party tomorrow.”

Richard, preoccupied with calming his unsettled emotions, failed to respond appropriately. Silence settled between them once more. Usually, silence only stretched between them during moments when their lips were employed for purposes other than speaking or eating. Feeling the awkward atmosphere, Grace occasionally glanced at Richard’s expression.

“H-how would you like to celebrate your birthday today?”

Grace changed the subject. Even though she had whimsically decided on it herself, Richard Spencer’s birthday—more precious than the Emperor of Romia—would officially begin in just two hours.

“I’m… not sure.”

Richard had never truly celebrated his birthday before. Even in years with February 29, his birthday had never been the sole focus of attention. He had never been celebrated alone. The birthday party always revolved around Lancelot, and greetings were given jointly to both brothers.

“Is there… is there anything you want to do? Or s-something you want?”

There were plenty of things he wanted. Even now, he wished he could push aside the tea table separating them, kiss her, and gradually pull away to open his eyes to the sight of the reddish morning sun breaking through the sky and the evening’s lavender-hued clouds draping over swaying green leaves.

But ever since the time he pushed the table away and caused the teacups to shatter—prompting Sebastian to burst in—Richard had refrained from such unrefined actions. Nobles are obligated to display a dignified demeanor to their servants.

…The truth was, it started after witnessing Freya Spencer throwing a tantrum upon discovering the broken piano upon her return from Wormleighton. Richard had not known until then just how terrifying his younger sister could be.

“Simply sharing tea and dinner with you is more than enough.”

This was the composed and exemplary response of a nobleman. Thus, Richard and Grace sat across from one another, sipping tea, then enjoyed a private, well-prepared dinner while exchanging conversation. However, the dialogue was markedly different from usual. Richard spoke much less than he typically did.

“Th-this is my gift.”

It was past 10 PM. Richard Spencer’s brief birthday was drawing to a close. Before preparing to return to the Montague mansion, Grace handed him a box wrapped with a light green ribbon.

“Grace, this is…”

Inside the box was a boutonniere crafted from a modest diamond and small emeralds. It was not an item that appeared particularly expensive for Richard Spencer to wear, but he recognized its significance instantly.

“I-it’s Lady Montague’s engagement ring, r-remade.”

“……”

“Sh-she left it for me, b-but I thought it’d be better for you to have it.”

“This…”

“Y-you miss her far more than I do.”

“……”

“Th-that’s why I’m giving it to you. I-I may be Lady Montague’s adopted daughter, but you were her child by blood.”

“……”

“S-she worried about you until the very end. I-I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“……”

“H-happy birthday. And… th-thank you for being born.”

At that moment, Richard felt as though a small, unfastened buttonhole in his heart was mended. It was a hole carved by the lingering sense of loss that tightened his chest from time to time since Lady Mary Montague’s death. Recognizing this, Grace filled the gap with the piece that had been Lady Montague’s constant companion throughout her life. In essence, this gift was a collaborative creation of two women who had soothed Richard Spencer’s solitude.

“I-it’s late, so I’ll be heading back now. L-Lord Montague must be waiting for me.”

Grace rose to her feet. After a long silence, Richard followed suit. Taking both of her hands in his, he pressed them firmly within his palms and murmured in a restrained voice.

“The night isn’t over yet, so give me another chance to ask for what I want, Grace.”