Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 33

33. Divergence and Convergence

The Spencer family villa in Bath was larger in scale than the Montague mansion in Lydon. Its atmosphere was dim overall, with corridors interconnected like a spider’s web. One could easily lose their sense of direction and wander aimlessly.

However, like the sun emerging after a downpour, a green midsummer meadow unfolded before Grace—a lost lamb—as she stumbled upon the villa’s library, which seemed to house thousands of books.

While Professor Charles Dodgson’s library also contained many volumes, most were related to mathematics or philosophy. From a young age, Grace had spent her time immersed in those books, finding comfort in the dry scent of aged paper.

Books were expensive. They were also rare. For this reason, nobles often filled their libraries to flaunt their wealth. The number of books one owned was a direct indicator of one’s fortune. The Spencer family was no exception.

Thanks to the Spencer family’s wealth, Grace had been freely enjoying the villa’s resources over the past few days. The library, located on the second floor, was meticulously maintained without a speck of dust. Before Grace discovered it, the room had been devoid of both people and dust.

Of course, seeking out a library in Bath was unusual. Bath was a retreat for the elderly and the ill and a vacation spot for young unmarried men and women. There was little reason to read books in such a place.

The same applied to the other three members of the group besides Richard and Grace. They would rush out of the villa as soon as breakfast was over, take a short break indoors in the afternoon, and then ponder what activities to enjoy the next day after dinner. Following this, they would head to the Assembly Room.

Grace hadn’t seen Richard Spencer in days. However, one thing was certain—he wasn’t venturing outside. She presumed he was busy catching up on work even in Bath.

What an incredibly diligent man! To not let go of his responsibilities even while on vacation could only be described as admirable.

A man immersed in his work was irresistibly attractive. Would Richard Spencer, when faced with something that didn’t go well, run his fingers through his hair in frustration and unbutton his shirt? Would he roll up his sleeves absentmindedly as he focused on documents? Would the veins in his forearms stand out?

Grace often fantasized about the invention of a machine capable of recording scenes exactly as they were. If such a device were invented, she would buy the largest and most high-performing model to capture only Richard Spencer. Given her short stature, she’d probably need to carry a ladder, too.

Richard Spencer arriving at the college building for lectures, leaving after classes, playing rugby, or glancing at the sky during a match—she wanted to record every moment and cherish them whenever she had a spare moment.

Of course, she had no intention of prying into his private life beyond official events. Everyone had things they wished to keep private, and respecting that was, in her view, the appropriate stance for someone in unrequited love.

Peeking from Cherry Hinton was an exception, as the area wasn’t private property.

It was nearly noon. Recently, the weather had been as pleasant as Grace’s mood. When she opened the library window, a gentle breeze curled in. She watched absently as the wind flipped the pages of an open book on the desk.

“What are you doing here, Miss Gurton?”

The unexpected voice cut through the vast library, reverberating among the rows of bookshelves. Grace jumped to her feet in surprise. Was she dreaming? To ensure the man standing before her wasn’t a figment of her imagination, she discreetly stepped on her own foot beneath her dress.

“Were you reading?” Richard asked, glancing at the fluttering pages of the book.

“Y-yes, yes.”

Grace stammered nervously before hesitating and asking cautiously.

“A-am I not supposed to be here?”

Although Sebastian hadn’t said anything, the villa’s owner might feel differently. Grace instinctively lowered her head, feeling as though she had done something wrong.

“Not at all. Guests visiting this villa are free to explore anywhere they wish.”

At his response, Grace’s eyes sparkled as she looked up at Richard.

Eye that held the light of dawn, eye clouded with evening’s haze. Morning sunlight gathered to shine ever so brightly in her gaze—an image so vivid that Richard abruptly turned away from her, suppressing his own runaway thoughts.

Richard Spencer, you’re losing your mind.

Since attending the play, Richard Spencer had not been himself. Unlike Grace Gurton’s serene and carefree days, his life had taken a turn for the worse. The problem was that this deterioration felt strangely sweet.

If it had been merely unpleasant, it would have been easy to handle. True to his nature of avoiding anything undesirable and discarding what he didn’t want, Richard could have excised the festering wound before it spread too far. And like a man of strong constitution, the cut flesh would soon have healed.

But this situation was different. It clung to him like a leech, drawing his blood while leaving him feeling cool and ticklish. It was absurd, yet it was happening.

Chasing Sebastian away and coming here was a foolish act. Even harboring feelings he wanted to hide from Sebastian was absurd. Yet he couldn’t let it go. It seemed he couldn’t find peace without verifying the truth behind Grace Gurton’s existence—the one who had shattered his serene, orderly life and turned it upside down. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his eyes had been clouded since that night.

“What book were you reading?”

Richard pointed at the book. Grace quickly closed the cover and answered nervously.

“It’s… a math book.”

“Math?”

Now he understood why Sebastian had found her peculiar. Who reads a math book at a villa in Bath, especially a woman?

Like most nobles, the library’s books were primarily decorative. If examined closely, they were practically new—purchased for display rather than for reading.

The math book was likely ordered by a butler from his grandfather’s or great-grandfather’s era, and probably by mistake.

Yet, despite this, Grace Gurton didn’t strike him as strange. If Graham Harold had been poring over a math book at this hour, Richard would have dismissed him as insane. But seeing Grace, her cheeks glowing with a fresh blush, he couldn’t think the same.

Richard studied mathematics at Christ Church College. Upon admission, Sebastian had recommended he study law, as was typical for other nobles. But at eighteen, Richard Spencer confidently chose to enroll in the mathematics department instead.

He liked it that way. Clear answers, precise solutions, intuitive quantifications, and visualizations. He could pride himself on studying a discipline far superior to that of the law students, who all interpreted the same legal text in chaotic and contradictory ways.

“What were you studying just now?”

“……”

When he picked up the book and asked, Grace didn’t respond.

Richard sat beside her and read the chapter title aloud.

“Limits of Trigonometric Functions.”

He repeated the phrase several times, like a child learning to speak, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you understand this?”

Finally, he couldn’t hold back his laughter. Shaking with amusement, he teased her playfully.

“Y-yes, to some extent…”

Grace’s voice trailed off. She regretted bringing this unromantic subject into such an idyllic situation. She should have chosen a romance novel. If she had, perhaps he would have said something like, “You’re the first woman to treat me this way” or “This isn’t like you.”

“Why do you study mathematics, Miss Gurton?”

“W-well…”

The reason had been simple at first. Professor Charles Dodgson was a mathematician, and his library was filled with math books. But as the years went by, she found genuine enjoyment in studying. Though she couldn’t become a college student or professor as a woman, she was content assisting Professor Dodgson with his research.

“I-I like it.”

Mathematics is a rational discipline that requires clear proofs. In contrast, the emotion of love is indescribably irrational.

For Richard, there was a definite reason to study mathematics. His life was filled with problems to solve, much like mathematics, and governed by rules as fixed as mathematical language.

However, the thought that her preference for such a logical discipline as mathematics might ultimately stem from the illogical reasoning of simply “liking it” suddenly stirred unease in Richard’s heart.

Because I like it. Like it. Like…

According to the book Grace had been reading, limits could either diverge or converge. Similarly, Richard Spencer’s mind, tinged with sleepless nights that left violet shadows under his eyes, began to approach a limit.

Naturally, the magnitude of his feelings was diverging, while the direction of his heart was converging.