Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 45

45. Virtue and Pleasure

The regular life Richard Spencer had managed to regain lasted only a single day. Even a “three-day rule” usually holds for three days, but this abrupt upheaval was as fleeting as it was futile.

Richard stayed in bed past 11 a.m., languishing. The blankets he had kicked off throughout the night lay crumpled and discarded far across the floor, like tattered rags.

“Th-Thank you for the offer, b-but Lord Wilford will be accompanying me.”

Even though he had resolved to uphold his loyalty and accompany Grace to the Assembly Room ball—despite his strong aversion to it—this was the result?

Recalling Grace’s rejection, Richard Spencer’s face turned as red as his hair. He wanted to disappear, mortified to the point of wishing he could flee to Lydon immediately. In fact, why not? It wasn’t as if he had spent much time in Bath to begin with.

He sluggishly extended an arm to pull the bell cord hanging limply by his bedside.

“You called, Young Master?”

Within a second of the bell being pulled, Sebastian appeared. Standing guard just outside the door to maintain the dignity of the muttering Richard Spencer, Young Earl, was the noble and practiced posture of his ever-loyal, ever-skilled attendant.

“Let’s return to Lydon,” Richard murmured in a faint, crumbling voice.

“Pardon? All of a sudden? Why?”

“Have I ever explained my reasons before giving orders?”

Well, no. He never had. When had he ever been considerate? He always just barked commands, wholly arbitrary.

Sebastian grabbed the blanket sprawled at the foot of the bed, rolled it up, and tossed it toward the door. Then, he gave Richard a once-over from head to toe.

Ah, this must be the lament and self-reproach of a rugby player who failed to catch a pass.

When he had left for the library earlier, Richard Spencer had been perfectly fine. Didn’t he put on airs, claiming he’d go “see a friend” and urging Sebastian to relax and enjoy some tea?

Yet just minutes later, the Young Earl had come tumbling down the stairs, snapping at the idle footman to bring him a horse. Mounting “Sono,” his beloved mare, he had disappeared like the wind. For reference, “Sono” was a name Richard Spencer had bestowed in Latin upon his cherished horse—a peculiarity unmatched in Ingrint.

It wasn’t until dusk that Richard returned, barely keeping himself upright alongside Sono, who was on the verge of collapse. The tear-streaked eyes and dried saliva at Sono’s mouth seemed to mirror Sebastian’s own pitiable state.

“Did you have a fight with your friend?”

When someone returned in such a state after meeting a friend, it was almost always because of a quarrel. An attendant’s duty included consoling a sulking child who’d just had a spat with their friend.

But was Grace Gurton even the type to argue with Richard Spencer?

“A fight? Sebastian, are you mad?”

Richard’s eyes widened in outrage, his sharp green gaze boring into Sebastian.

“If not, then what other reason could there be for this?” Sebastian retorted curtly.

Sebastian was a devout believer in the Ingrint Church and its mustard-seed miracles. He was also the impudent yet loyal attendant and ally of the insufferable Richard Spencer. While he occasionally felt a wild urge to yank the lion’s mane, he mostly wished for Richard’s happiness—mainly because it made his own life easier.

Eleanor d’Estrée and Richard Spencer were a perfect match by every measure. Their past connection, current status and wealth, and future prospects made them an ideal pair.

Even their personalities were eerily similar. When they stared at each other with blank expressions, it sent chills down Sebastian’s spine, as if two identical woodblock prints had been placed face-to-face.

By contrast, Richard’s expressions when mentioning Grace Gurton were remarkably varied. The man who used to sneer or smirk now laughed, chuckled, and even giggled strangely.

On top of that, he had started getting annoyed more frequently and intensely. Richard wasn’t the type to get easily irritated, as he usually did whatever he pleased and rarely had reasons to be upset.

But after meeting Grace Gurton, he had become a bundle of nerves. He would snap, calm himself down, and then erupt again.

Looking back, it was lovesickness. It had been a mustard seed after all. Sebastian found the situation both amusing and concerning. Standing at yet another crossroads, he pondered his next move.

The ancient hero Hercules chose a defining path in his eighteenth year. In a life-altering dream, the Goddess of Wisdom and the Goddess of Love appeared before him, offering two choices. They urged him to select one of the two options they presented.

To the bewildered Hercules, the Goddess of Wisdom offered “virtue,” a life of true happiness attained after enduring trials and suffering. In contrast, the Goddess of Love tempted him with “pleasure,” the comfort of an enjoyable life. After much deliberation, Hercules chose “virtue” and eventually rose to the status of a hero through countless tribulations.

Sebastian, however, was an ordinary Ingrintian with no aspirations of becoming such a hero. Naturally, he didn’t even glance at “virtue” and instead reached for the “pleasure” that the Goddess of Love extended toward him.

Why interfere?

Richard Spencer wasn’t yet formally engaged. If he had been, things might have been different. But until he became someone’s fiancé, Richard theoretically retained the freedom to choose between “virtue” and “pleasure” according to his heart’s desire. While it wouldn’t be easy, it was theoretically possible.

Sebastian found the idea of Richard binding himself to Eleanor d’Estrée inappropriate. Their relationship lacked the chemistry needed to spark any reaction; even while drinking tea, they sat physically apart. Could life sciences flourish in such a tepid relationship?

From an earthly perspective, the match wasn’t promising either. Tall, robust, and well-built, Richard Spencer’s bloodline was one worth preserving, according to the evolutionary theories currently gaining attention in academic circles.

Their great stature and strong frames deserved to be propagated far and wide across the globe. By “stature” and “frame,” of course, Sebastian referred to physical height and build.

To ensure this, some groundwork was necessary. According to a Gallian guide to romance Sebastian had recently read, the best way to determine whether one truly likes someone is to meet other people.

Additionally, observing one’s feelings when the other person meets someone else brings clarity. If seeing a woman you like with another man makes you immensely angry or deeply despondent, then everything becomes clear.

Richard Spencer would soon face both scenarios. Sebastian planned to observe these situations as if watching a theatrical performance.

Should he ask the cook to pop some corn?

A few days ago, Sebastian had received a letter from Lady Mary Montague to deliver to a Wilford family servant. This was before Richard and Grace returned home.

Theresius Wilford had written to Lady Montague expressing his hope to attend the upcoming ball at the Assembly Room as Grace Gurton’s partner. Lady Montague had gladly written back, accepting his request.

“Sebastian, could you deliver this to the person outside?”

“Should I just deliver it?”

“Yes. And also notify the usual tailor on Milsom Street to finish Grace’s dress without delay.”

“By when, Madam?”

“By four days from now. She must have it ready to attend the ball with Theresius Wilford.”

At that time, Sebastian had no idea about the “friend” business Richard would later mention. He simply thought Lady Montague was orchestrating a match between Grace and Theresius.

Theresius Wilford. Though he had punched Richard Spencer in the face and deserved some resentment, he seemed like a suitable husband for Grace Gurton. He wasn’t a high-ranking noble, which made him a feasible match for Grace, and his somewhat bland appearance wasn’t entirely unappealing.

With the Montagues’ support after marriage, Wilford’s influence in Parliament would undoubtedly grow. He would likely have no reason to refuse the arrangement.

More importantly, Theresius Wilford himself was enthusiastic about Grace. As a noble, he had probably weighed the calculations concerning a relationship with Grace and found it worthwhile.

So what would Richard Spencer feel upon seeing Grace Gurton attend the ball with someone else? This fulfilled the second condition for making him realize his feelings.

It would also satisfy the first condition simultaneously. The moment Sebastian delivered this message, that is.

“Young master, why don’t you get up and wash your face first?”

“I’ll handle it myself.”

“You’ll need to.”

“Ah, right. We have to go to Lydon.”

Richard rose unsteadily, pressing against the dark circles beneath his eyes.

“Before you go to Lydon, there’s somewhere else you need to visit first.”

“…Where’s that?”

In a solemn tone, Sebastian replied, “The Countess wishes to see you. She asked to be informed as soon as you awoke.”