Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 32

32. Strange

“Young Master, Lady Mary Montague is expected to arrive this afternoon. Are there any specific instructions you’d like to give?”

“……”

“Young Master?”

Sebastian waved his hand in front of Richard’s eyes. Richard sat perfectly still, holding a teacup. He hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep since the night they watched the play.

Whenever he managed to doze off, Grace Gurton invariably appeared in his dreams. When she winked her violet eye and smiled at him, Richard found himself helplessly captivated, even knowing it was just a dream. It was, quite literally, a midsummer night’s farce.

Moreover, when he woke up in the morning, lifted the blanket, and looked down below, that stiff and damp…

“Young Master!”

Startled, Richard glared at Sebastian with a face brimming with irritation.

“What’s gotten into you lately?”

Richard Spencer had always lived a disciplined life. But his once-regimented routine had been overturned in the past few days, akin to the revolutionary upheaval Oliver Cromwell had brought about.

Staying in bed for an hour or two after waking, staring blankly at the ceiling, skipping breakfast, holding the newspaper without turning its pages, nibbling at lunch in his room, riding his horse like a madman in the afternoon, and dining alone in the evening—these new habits were rules of chaos that Richard had nonetheless adhered to diligently. In short, he was living recklessly.

“What?”

Another new rule: ignoring others and not listening to a single word they said. This, too, was a recent addition to Richard Spencer’s personal constitution.

“Lady Mary Montague is arriving today. Is there anything else you’d like me to prepare?”

Sebastian repeated his question slowly and deliberately, his tone reminiscent of when he had first taught Richard Ingrintian composition over a decade ago. Back then, he had thought the boy was rather endearing…

“The guest room is ready, isn’t it?”

“Of course.”

“And dinner?”

“That’s taken care of as well.”

“Then that’s enough.”

“Excuse me?”

This was unheard of. Whenever Lady Mary Montague visited the Spencer estate or the Bath villa, Richard would micromanage every detail, from orchestrating the staff to ensuring the curtains matched the floral arrangements.

Back then, his meticulousness had been so infuriating that Sebastian had often fantasized about delivering a light knock to the red-haired young master’s head. The fond memories of Richard as a charming child instantly faded like a retreating tide.

“Is that really all?”

“Her room is ready, and dinner is arranged. What more is there?”

This was the same Richard Spencer who had once prioritized Lady Montague above all else. Even when his betrothed from a foreign land arrived after ten years, he had postponed their meeting to rush to the Montague mansion.

“Young Master.”

Sebastian sat across from Richard.

“What’s troubling you? Talk to me.”

But even as he said this, Sebastian didn’t expect much. Richard Spencer was not one to bare his soul. He only said what he wanted to say and kept the rest to himself.

“There’s nothing.”

Richard replied nonchalantly and sank into the couch. Tea sloshed over the edge of the cup in his hand, but he didn’t even glance at it.

“Young Master, your tea…”

Sebastian reached out to take the cup. As he noticed the red stains on Richard’s silk shirt, his brows furrowed.

What on earth is going on? This was Richard Spencer, one of the most fastidious men in Ingrint.

“…What is Grace Gurton doing?”

Richard couldn’t hold back. This time, he couldn’t resist blurting out the question that had been swirling in his mind for days, much like the tea that had spilled from his cup.

“Miss Gurton?”

Sebastian asked, perplexed. Just days ago, Richard had passed by her with the coldness of someone ignoring a beggar outside Westminster Abbey. Now he was suddenly showing interest.

“What do you mean, what is she doing?”

“I was wondering if she’s plotting something again.”

What a pathetic excuse.

Richard wanted to clutch his pounding head and collapse. But in front of him sat Sebastian, a man who might seize the opportunity to push him off a cliff if he so much as stumbled.

“Plotting?”

Oh, it’s that nonsense about her being the cunning foster daughter again. Sebastian’s already furrowed brow furrowed further.

After observing her for several days, it was clear that Grace Gurton was far from the cunning and sly villainess he had imagined. While her behavior couldn’t exactly be described as exemplary, she certainly didn’t seem to have any ulterior motives.

It was true that her stammering made her appear clumsy. Yet she neither cowered nor seemed intimidated. In fact, even Freya Spencer—equally arrogant as Richard Spencer—had tried to tease her a few times but ultimately gave up.

The best response to malice is often to remain oblivious. If one fails to catch the intended insult, the aggressor is left frustrated. This was precisely the case with Freya Spencer.

After repeated failed attempts, Freya began treating Grace as if she were completely invisible. Freed from Freya’s antics, Grace found herself liberated.

For Grace Gurton, it was a triumphant revenge achieved without lifting a finger. She likely remained unaware of this, however.

Sebastian often grumbled about how Richard and Freya Spencer were two of a kind, but his views on them differed. Richard’s behavior was somewhat understandable, while Freya’s was inherently capricious.

The process matters as much as the outcome. Just as a student who fails a test due to unforeseen circumstances might be given the benefit of the doubt, one who failed simply because they didn’t study would not receive the same leniency. Viewed through this lens, Richard’s persistent suspicion of Grace Gurton wasn’t entirely unreasonable. If Freya acted out of mischief, Richard acted preemptively to avoid being harmed—although, for the recipient, it all felt the same.

Hadn’t he softened a bit during their carriage ride? Even though he’d harbored suspicions about mustard seeds or whatnot, Sebastian knew better than anyone that Richard Spencer was a man incapable of giving his heart to women. His heart belonged solely to himself.

“She doesn’t appear to be scheming…”

“But?”

“She’s definitely… unusual.”

“Unusual?”

Indeed, even Sebastian found Grace Gurton to be somewhat peculiar. Not in a bad way, but not entirely in a good way, either.

Eleanor d’Estrée and Freya Spencer spent their days shopping on Milsom Street or frequenting the Pump Room. Occasionally, they took phaetons on outings to the countryside, always escorted by Lancelot Spencer.

In contrast, Grace rarely joined them. While Freya excluded her, it didn’t seem like Grace minded. Naturally, this left her as something of a loner.

Instead of socializing, Grace stayed at the villa. Curious about how she spent her time, Sebastian had peeked in on her a few times. The quiet atmosphere had led him to assume she was embroidering or painting, but surprisingly, Grace spent most of her time in the library.

Occasionally, she would take walks in the garden, during which Sebastian had kept her company. The conversations he remembered from those times were utterly absurd: how the number of sunflower seeds in a blooming flower formed some sequence, or the mathematical significance of the length-to-width ratio of the villa.

What use could women possibly have for such knowledge? Sebastian thought to himself, though, as an experienced attendant, he would never dare show such sentiments toward his master’s guest.

Grace Gurton was undeniably unique, and in some ways, remarkable. Despite a clearly challenging past, she didn’t seem to have wasted her life in debauchery.

“She doesn’t seem like someone who would squander Lady Montague’s fortune.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“She appears genuinely passionate about mathematics. Perhaps due to Professor Charles Dodgson’s influence.”

“I see.”

“Honestly, she might know more than you, Young Master.”

As he spoke, Sebastian instinctively rubbed his ears, bracing for the scolding that usually followed such comparisons.

“Is that so?”

This time, however, Richard’s reaction was different. In the past, he would have flown into a rage at being compared to such a woman.

“Where is she now?”

“She went to the library after breakfast. She might still be there.”

“Lady Montague will arrive late this afternoon, correct?”

“That’s likely. She would have left Lydon this morning.”

“And Eleanor and Freya?”

“They went out with the second young master.”

“Then, Sebastian, you should head out too.”

After a few minutes of contemplation, Richard smiled faintly and issued his command.

“Where to?” Sebastian asked blankly.

“Go greet my aunt.”

“But she won’t be here for hours.”

“Then wait for her on the road and return with her.”

Sebastian instinctively clenched his fists. Thinking Richard had changed was clearly a misunderstanding. Just as he had done during Lady Montague’s childhood visits, Richard Spencer was still as unreasonable as ever.

“Hurry up.”

Richard stood, leaving Sebastian to imagine punching the back of his head.

Reluctantly, Sebastian replied, “Yes…”