Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 137

137. Side Story VI

The contents of Grace’s diary entries over the past few days were as follows:

Body temperature: 99.14℉. Weight: 2lb loss. Nausea. Drowsiness.

Body temperature: 99.12℉. Weight: 1lb loss. Nausea. Mild abdominal pain. Drowsiness.

Body temperature: 99.16℉. Weight: Maintained. Nausea. Headache. Drowsiness.

Body temperature: 99.15℉. Weight: 1lb loss. Nausea. Dizziness. Drowsiness.

To an outsider, it might seem as if she were gravely ill, but perhaps this was…

Grace Spencer gently stroked her still-flat lower abdomen. If her monthly visitor didn’t arrive within a week, she planned to discreetly summon the Spencer family’s physician for an examination. Should the physician confirm her suspicions with a nod, she would not hesitate to share the joyful news with Richard.

Until then, she refrained from speaking out prematurely. She feared disappointing Richard if her intuition turned out to be wrong. In truth, it was likely her own potential disappointment she dreaded.

Sometimes, what one desires most can be too frightening to voice. She worried that some malevolent force might take exception to her happiness and act maliciously. Thus, Grace chose to wait quietly, avoiding any unnecessary fuss.

She was aware that Richard felt hurt by her recent changes. Even so, she had read that one must be cautious in the early stages, and it seemed wise to adhere to that advice.

Grace had slipped into the library to select a few books while evading the eyes of Richard and the staff. As she read about precautions to take during early pregnancy, her cheeks flushed in private. It was impossible not to think about Richard Spencer’s boundless stamina.

Richard truly was a Janus. Although his Janus-like nature was different from what she had initially expected, Grace didn’t mind. In fact, she rather preferred his other side…

One week later, if the physician examined her and smiled broadly in congratulations, how should she respond? She might be so overwhelmed with emotion that she wouldn’t be able to speak. Should she prepare a handkerchief in advance, just in case she burst into tears?

Richard would undoubtedly be dumbfounded at first, then blush as red as his hair with joy. What if he became so elated that he forgot his dignity as the Young Earl and began to dance?

Grace imagined the serene and trivial conversations she and Richard might have after she confessed the truth—intimate marital chats centered on their child.

Would it be a boy or a girl? Surely, all expectant parents wondered about such things.

Richard might wish for a boy. After all, producing an heir for the Spencer family was part of Grace Spencer’s duty. Given Richard’s precarious position despite being born a grand noble’s heir, he might hope for their firstborn to be a son.

If they had a son, the Young Earl’s standing would become more secure than ever. With the next Earl already confirmed before even inheriting the title, no one in the family would dare question Richard Spencer’s legitimacy.

But daughters are so adorable… A daughter who resembles Richard Spencer!

A girl with red hair and light green, translucent eyes, a few freckles sprinkled on her nose, alabaster skin, broad shoulders, sturdy arms, and muscular thighs—a robust and well-built woman, in short.

Being strong wouldn’t be a bad thing. During her days of unrequitedly chasing after Richard Spencer, Grace had often wished she were taller, so she could see him better from afar.

If their daughter fell into an unrequited love of her own, how would Richard react? He would likely investigate the object of her affections by any means necessary and wouldn’t tolerate someone he disapproved of.

Watching Richard interact with their daughter might be entertaining, Grace thought. She imagined herself nibbling on popcorn prepared by the chef while she and Sebastian enjoyed the amusing father-daughter dynamics. Perhaps she should ask the chef to pop some corn…

But what about the name? That, too, was something all expectant parents surely pondered.

Names for a boy? Robert Boyle, Johannes Kepler, Leonhard Euler, Antoine Lavoisier, Friedrich Wilhelm Bessel, Émile Benoît Paul Clapeyron, August Möbius, Augustus De Morgan, Arthur Cayley…

All Grace could think of were the names of mathematicians. While logical and mathematical, she lacked any talent for naming. She ruled out “Charles Dodgson” as a candidate. She didn’t want to think of Professor Charles Dodgson every time she called her son’s name.

Then, for a girl? Christine de Pizan, Cassandra Fedele, Marie le Jars de Gournay, Mary Astell, Émilie du Châtelet, Flora Tristan…

Once again, Grace’s creativity fell short. The only names she could muster were those of the few female philosophers in history, reflecting her lack of artistic flair.

The rapid mental effort made her drowsy. Deciding to discuss the name with Richard later, Grace burrowed under the covers and closed her eyes. Within less than a minute, her breathing steadied as she fell asleep.

Thus, she didn’t hear the sound of Richard Spencer opening the bedroom door, nor his heavy sighs as he loitered near her side, nor the uneven footsteps as he left the room, carrying her diary as if fleeing.

***

Body temperature: 99.14℉. Weight: 2lb loss. Nausea. Drowsiness.

Body temperature: 99.12℉. Weight: 1lb loss. Nausea. Mild abdominal pain. Drowsiness.

Body temperature: 99.16℉. Weight: Maintained. Nausea. Headache. Drowsiness.

Body temperature: 99.15℉. Weight: 1lb loss. Nausea. Dizziness. Drowsiness.

Richard Spencer was a grand nobleman embodying refined elegance and steadfast resolve, impervious to temptation. But the moment he held his wife’s diary, he abandoned his unwavering resolve and became a weak man.

And after reading her diary, Richard transformed into a guilty man, stripped of his refined elegance. He finally understood why his younger sister Freya Spencer had once chewed her nails so incessantly.

Nail-biting was something Freya no longer did. As such, a man over twenty years old like Richard Spencer could hardly resort to such behavior.

Besides, his nails were always neatly trimmed, making it impossible to bite them. He had always been meticulous about his appearance, but this had intensified after marriage. He was extra cautious not to leave any scratches on Grace’s soft skin.

It was an ironic thought for a husband who left various marks in vivid shapes and colors on her white skin with his lips and strong grip. But such contradictions were typical of Richard Spencer. He was a Janus, after all.

The usually upright Young Earl, who rarely crossed his legs, now sat trembling his thigh and unconsciously bringing his fingers to his lips. His gaze remained fixed on the cryptic entries in Grace’s diary.

Grace’s diary, contrary to Theresius Wilford’s claims of a “feminine” style, was filled with precise facts. Brief words, exact figures, and measurements.

She truly was a delightful woman. In Lydon’s high society—no, in this entire world—words, figures, and units were unlikely to be considered hallmarks of femininity. But to Richard Spencer, they were the epitome of a lovable “feminine” trait.

Increased body temperature, weight loss, nausea, abdominal pain, dizziness, drowsiness.

But the diary’s contents were utterly alarming. The symptoms Grace recorded etched themselves repeatedly into Richard’s mind until he felt his vision blur.

Even someone like Richard Spencer, who knew little of medicine beyond the name of the Spencer family’s physician, could tell these symptoms were serious. Particularly weight loss, which often indicated the progression of severe illness.

Lady Mary Montague had been the same. When he saw her again after her return from Turkan, he immediately noticed how thin she had become. He had been momentarily fooled by the artificial flush created by cosmetics.

Perhaps it was better to summon the physician now.

Richard Spencer removed the boutonnière from his chest pocket and held it. Yet no matter how much he examined it, he couldn’t discern Lady Montague’s will from it.

Thus, he decided to follow Sebastian’s advice and wait a little longer. Lady Montague had been silent, but Richard remembered her disdain for summoning physicians.