Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 133

133. Side Story II

“T-today is not possible.”

At Grace’s whisper, Richard’s body stiffened. Soon after, he seemed to understand and bit Grace’s ear gently as he spoke.

“Should I have the maids bring a hot water bottle??”

In the Spencer family’s education for men, there was some instruction about the physical changes women experience before pregnancy. This was considered essential knowledge for men to ensure the continuation of the family line.

In his early teens, Richard, who had an exceptional mind, had dismissed this as someone else’s concern and didn’t pay much attention. However, he did recall that women’s bodies needed to be kept warm during certain times.

Thus, in recent months, he had observed Grace’s condition and discreetly informed the head maid in advance, showcasing his thoughtful side as a husband. If that was the reason for Grace’s refusal, Richard thought it was understandable and reached for the bedside bell to call the head maid.

“Th-that’s not it.”

Huh?

“J-just, let’s refrain for a while.”

Huh?

Rejecting him without any unavoidable reasons like a natural disaster or a plague?

“Grace, are you feeling unwell?”

“N-no.”

“Then is something worrying you?”

“N-no…”

“Then why…”

Richard stopped speaking at this point. He wasn’t inclined to persistently question her for detailed reasons.

There must be such days. It might be because she’s tired. Maybe she’s too sleepy.

Even if she’s tired, even if she’s sleepy, still, I…!

Richard Spencer suppressed the restlessness in his heart. He forced himself to sleep, silently praying that God would protect Her Majesty the Queen.

Soon, Grace fell peacefully asleep. Beside her, Richard spent an eternity-like night trying to soothe his lower body, which showed no signs of calming, whining like an abandoned kitten. Still, he believed it was just a temporary whim of his wife.

But Grace’s refusal was not temporary. Sharing the same bed yet only holding hands like second-year public school students had already lasted a week.

Correction. Even second-year public school students these days wouldn’t be this wholesome.

The atmosphere between Richard and Grace grew uneasy. Grace pretended not to notice, and Richard pretended to be fine. Both dreaded the arrival of night for different reasons: Grace because she found the situation of rejecting him uncomfortable, and Richard because he feared being rejected. This marked a stark contrast to their recent days of eagerly awaiting the night as soon as morning came.

“Ri-Richard. Let’s… let’s follow Sebastian’s suggestion, just in case.”

Was this a declaration that they wouldn’t even share the same bedroom?

“What kind of ‘just in case’ are you referring to?” Richard Spencer asked with a stern expression.

“You m-might get tired while working, right? In that case, wouldn’t it be more efficient to sleep in the office rather than return home?”

Efficient? Effiiiicient?

Richard suppressed his boiling irritation. His tightly clenched jaw dimples betrayed his feelings of disappointment.

Richard Spencer, the Young Earl, had married Grace Montague without considering any efficiency. He had never viewed his wife in terms of utility.

Yet, to introduce the impurity of “efficiency” into their sacred and beautiful union? Efficiency had only applied to their bedroom activities thus far, like adhering to minimal clothing standards to commence their passionate match at maximum speed.

“…I understand.”

Richard answered in a rigid tone.

And then he saw it—a fleeting look of relief passing over Grace’s face.

***

Was this what they called a period of ennui?

Richard Spencer found himself walking alone by the lakeside in St. James’s Park for the first time in a while.

Not entirely alone—Sebastian trailed three steps behind him—but without Grace holding his hand, the walk felt like a meaningless shuffle, indulging in solitude while also venting his frustration.

Richard Spencer wrestled with his current situation more intensely than anyone else. Yet, as a man who had endured an empty 20-year engagement, the only conclusion he could come to was the unpleasant assumption that his wife was tired of him and avoided physical contact.

As a mathematics graduate of Christ Church College, Richard had tackled bizarre and absurd proofs devised by professors, especially the mad Professor Charles Dodgson of Grentabridge. He had stayed up numerous nights to submit assignments, adhering to the absurd philosophy of “If it’s impossible, make it possible.”

Returning to the mindset of an eager student, Richard Spencer spent days agonizing over the problem Grace Spencer had posed to him. As befitted a star pupil of the mad professor, the problem she presented was of the highest difficulty.

Grace Spencer is experiencing ennui.

After staring endlessly at his wife’s turned back, Richard ultimately settled on this hypothesis.

A hypothesis is a conjecture about the unknown cause of a situation involving two or more variables. It serves as the premise for reasoning but not the conclusion.

Thus, Richard Spencer’s hypothesis—“Grace Spencer is experiencing ennui”—was merely a premise and could not be a conclusion. Therefore, it only needed to be logically and experimentally disproven.

The process of logical and experimental validation was mostly tedious and drawn-out. Furthermore, Richard Spencer, in his current state, was akin to a freshman overwhelmed by a professor’s long-winded lecture during the first class and intimidated by senior students’ malicious pranks.

…Though Richard Spencer would never admit to actually being such a flustered freshman.

In any case, verification is based on experimentation and experience. To accumulate results and data, he would have to continue observing Grace in their bedroom, speaking to her, and gauging her reactions.

But if Grace continued to shake her head repeatedly?

The hypothesis would be confirmed, and Richard Spencer’s heart would be torn to shreds.

Even if he wanted to disprove the hypothesis, it wouldn’t be easy. Hypotheses are inherently constructed based on plausibility.

In short, Richard’s hypothesis—“Grace Spencer is experiencing ennui”—was not arbitrarily formed, and its likelihood of being true was very high.

Should I ask Edmund Beaufort?

Edmund Beaufort was, among all the men Richard Spencer knew, the most knowledgeable about women. Moreover, despite his debauchery, he had the mysterious ability to avoid leaving even the slightest scar on women’s hearts.

If he swallowed his pride and consulted him about this matter, that bastard would undoubtedly provide an answer. However, he would never do so for free.

After all, Edmund had once claimed he would draw Grace’s portrait as an apology, only to saunter off with a jade ornament under the pretense of compensation. That exquisite bird carving, acquired at an auction for a sum rivaling the price of a Renaissance masterpiece, had been taken.

Given the soaring final bid price, the commission Edmund’s auction house must have earned was immense, yet he still coveted the item itself. Richard couldn’t even berate him because Grace had been smiling brightly while admiring the portrait. Clearly, he had deliberately timed his ploy for when she was present.

What about Lancelot?

Lancelot was in Gallia, so consulting him wasn’t feasible. Even if he were in Lydon, Richard wouldn’t have asked. Bringing it up would only prompt Lancelot to drone on in his insufferably smug tone about his own achievements.

And at the end, he would undoubtedly conclude with some ridiculous boast about being faster at everything except being born. Was he even sane?

Come to think of it, there was something Richard had meant to say to Lancelot before he left but hadn’t, out of pettiness. It was about how Richard had married faster than him.

Why he felt competitive over something he hadn’t cared about as a child was beyond him. Perhaps because he hadn’t experienced it back then, he now found himself overcome by childish feelings whenever he was around Lancelot, often resulting in petty bickering and glaring.

What about Graham Harold?

Graham wasn’t much help either… Unlike Richard Spencer, who was emotionally married, Graham Harold had long been considered Ingrint’s most eligible bachelor and the darling of high society. Yet he had never so much as crossed paths with any lady who fancied him, and instead, he bore the brunt of the Marchioness of Winchester’s incessant fretting.

Richard had often heard the Marchioness lament that Graham should have been betrothed in the womb like the Spencer family did. This was because rumors abounded that Graham Harold liked men.

…In the end, only Sebastian remained.

This was truly a case of abundance in poverty. Despite receiving countless invitations, the fact that the only person he could confide in and seek advice from was Sebastian was nothing short of tragic.

Perhaps the only solace was the fact that lions on the savanna are solitary creatures.

Still, Sebastian fancied himself a romance theorist. According to Richard’s knowledge, Sebastian’s room was stacked with romance manuals published in Gallia, enough to last through winter as firewood. Not only that, but he often stayed up all night obsessively reading Gallian play scripts and pulp novels, like a pervert.

“Sebastian.”

After intense deliberation, the king of the pride, Richard Spencer, beckoned to the monkey cautiously observing from a distance. He sought whatever meager wisdom the creature could offer.