Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 38

38. King of Bath

Edmund Beaufort, in Lady Mary Montague’s view, was an intriguing person; in Richard Spencer’s eyes, a depraved libertine; and to the young ladies of Grentabridge, a passionate romanticist.

These three qualities blended harmoniously when he arrived in Bath, earning him the title “King of Bath.”

Lady Montague, having heard of Edmund Beaufort’s school days, excluded him from the list of potential husbands for Grace Gurton. However, she encouraged Grace to interact with him. His unpretentious personality allowed him to associate with people from all walks of life without prejudice. In fact, one of Edmund’s close friends in Grentabridge, Lawrence Fairfax, was a wealthy commoner, not a noble.

“Oh!”

Edmund, who had been chatting with ladies from various parts of Ingrint, suddenly stood up. The moment he spotted Lady Mary Montague walking arm-in-arm with Grace into the Pump Room, his bewilderment was evident. Drawn as if by an invisible force, he approached the two women.

“Lady Mary Montague.”

Like a bear performing in a circus, Edmund bowed politely to Mary. Then, narrowing his eyes, he fixed his gaze on Grace.

“Young Lord Edmund Beaufort. It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it?”

Lady Montague greeted him with a bright smile.

“Yes, if my memory serves me right, I last saw you two years ago with my grandfather,” Edmund quickly replied, though his eyes remained locked on Grace.

“How is the Viscount of Beaufort faring?”

“My father is much the same as ever.”

Edmund smiled brightly as he thought of his father, who was obsessed with wealth.

Edmund Beaufort’s father had inherited the title and an auction house from Edmund’s grandfather, who had passed away a year ago. Originally a small business dealing in paintings and old books of dubious origin, the auction house flourished under the grandfather’s exceptional eye for art and management skills, propelling the Beaufort family to the pinnacle of Ingrint’s art market. From modest regional nobles who collected taxes in Pembroke, they became a family wielding influence over the nation’s art industry.

Art, particularly painting, became an effective means for nobles to launder money. Through art transactions, it was possible to mix illegal wealth with legitimate deals. There was no better way to conceal the origins of money.

Classic schemes involved buyers and sellers colluding to inflate the value of artwork and share the difference, or selling art below market price using doctored contracts. Unlike land or other goods, art was exempt from property taxes and acquisition taxes, making it ideal for tax evasion.

The Ingrintian government made half-hearted attempts to address the issue, but the efforts always fizzled out. A significant reason was Queen Anne Stuart’s fondness for auctions. The Queen would often auction her personal items for enormous profits, buying goods from auctions and reselling them to nobles at exorbitant prices. Anything tied to the Queen’s name saw its value skyrocket, ensuring profitable transactions for everyone involved.

The person who exploited these loopholes most skillfully was Edmund Beaufort’s father, the current Viscount of Pembroke. While Edmund’s grandfather elevated the company’s reputation, his father expanded its scale.

“By the way, Lady, who is this young lady…?”

When Mary remained silent for too long, Edmund, unable to hide his impatience, sought an introduction. Known for his ability to discern gems among stones, Edmund could not forget the mysterious woman he had glimpsed in Grentabridge. He had assumed she was an ordinary town girl, but her presence here with Lady Mary Montague, a member of the Spencer family, intrigued him.

“She is my husband’s fifth cousin. She will soon become our adopted daughter,” Mary answered proudly.

“Ah, so…”

King of Bath, Edmund Beaufort, had undoubtedly heard rumors about Lady Montague and her prospective adopted daughter. He had just failed to connect them to the enigmatic lady from Grentabridge.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady. I recall seeing you from a distance in Grentabridge.”

Edmund’s eyes sparkled as he greeted her warmly.

Edmund Beaufort had never before encountered a woman who left such an indelible impression on him. He had lived joyfully, pursuing consensual pleasure with moderately pretty, cute town girls, but it had always been lighthearted fun, leaving no regrets or lingering attachments.

Grace Gurton was different. She gave him the impression of discovering an ancient, mysterious artifact for the first time in his life.

It was probably because of her eyes.

Her gaze held a kind of incomplete beauty, unforgettable after just one look. Most people find stability in uniformity and acknowledge it as a virtue. This is why historical masterpieces and architectural marvels are often grounded in principles of symmetry and balance.

But Edmund Beaufort’s standards were unlike most people’s. He was drawn to the dramatic appeal of asymmetry and imbalance—not chaotic disorder, but the aesthetic of gaps that evoke deep thought and lingering impressions. That was the essence of Grace Gurton’s gaze.

“I-I am Grace Gurton.”

Edmund flinched inwardly at her first words but managed to suppress any outward reaction, thanks to his well-honed composure from years of interacting with countless women.

What did it matter if she stuttered? As long as the conversation flowed, that was enough.

Honestly, he could spend an entire day just gazing into those eyes, and time would still pass effortlessly. Besides, between a man and a woman, it doesn’t always have to be words that are exchanged through lips. After all, there are so many other things one can do with them…

“Lord Beaufort.”

Lady Mary Montague’s voice interrupted Edmund’s wandering thoughts. Older women could often guess what young men were imagining just by looking into their eyes. So this is the notorious jester I’ve heard about, Mary thought to herself.

“Yes, Madam?”

Edmund straightened up, adopting an air of formality. He knew that older women often concealed sharp rebukes within their words. Had he been caught?

“Grace will soon be formally adopted into the Montague family.”

“Ah, yes, I’m aware.”

The Ingrintian style of indirect speech was universal—whether in Lydon or Bath, at the Pump Room or the Assembly Room.

With a brief exchange of words, Lady Mary Montague and Edmund Beaufort reached an unspoken agreement. Her stern warning—Try anything inappropriate in my presence, and you’ll regret it—was understood clearly by Edmund, who responded by bowing deferentially like a bear in submission.

Yes, art is meant to be appreciated, not embraced.

Edmund Beaufort had excellent judgment and accepted Mary’s intentions without resistance.

“By the way, I’d like to commission a portrait of Grace. I’ve recently returned and am not familiar with which artists are currently renowned. Could you assist me?”

“Of course. If you describe the style you prefer, I can curate a list of artists to recommend.”

Edmund readily agreed, silently vowing to personally oversee the portrait sessions.

“Thank you. I’ll await your suggestions.”

“It’s an honor as a member of the Beaufort family to be of service.”

Mary concluded the conversation graciously. She then subtly gestured toward the area where Edmund had been sitting.

“While I meet with others and enjoy the baths, could you spend some time with Grace? Perhaps introduce her to your friends?”

“I’d be delighted to.”

Edmund’s voice brimmed with excitement. Finally free from Mary’s piercing gaze, he could spend time with the enchanting Grace. With the reverence of someone holding a jar of precious honey, he escorted her back to his seat, his face radiating satisfaction.

Meanwhile, Grace stifled a hiccup at Lady Montague’s words. Reluctant though she was, she had come along because of Mary’s insistence. However, Grace much preferred the Spencer villa’s library to the bustling Pump Room.

While Lady Montague was a kind person, she tended to see things from her own perspective. Mistaking Grace’s introverted nature for shyness, she was determined to help Grace make friends.

But Grace Gurton was a voluntary separatist. It wasn’t shyness; it was a deliberate choice.

Grace understood Lady Montague’s intentions. Given the circumstances, it was understandable that Mary wanted to resolve many matters in a short time.

Would it be wrong to feel less than grateful for Lady Montague’s intentions, even while fully understanding them? Would feeling burdened by Lady Montague’s efforts to secure both her marriage and her place in society make her an ungrateful person?

Standing at the opposite end of the spectrum from the narcissistic Richard Spencer was Grace Gurton. She disliked being in the spotlight, blamed herself first when problems arose, held herself to high standards, and was generous to others. She also found it difficult to refuse requests.

Richard Spencer, on the other hand, was indifferent to attention, quick to blame others for issues, lenient with himself, and strict with others. He was also well-known for his unapologetic rejection of others’ requests.

Opposites attract, they say…

“Here are my new friends.”

Edmund stopped and introduced the people seated on the sofa to Grace. A group of five or six men and women, their eyes bright with curiosity, focused intently on Grace Gurton.