Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 57

57. A Mother’s Prayer

“Richard Spencer. Shall we talk?”

The person who stopped Richard in his tracks was none other than Lady Mary Montague. Taking Richard by the hand, she guided him back up the stairs and into her bedroom, where she pushed him inside. She then looked up at him with a gaze clouded by unease.

“Richard, do you by any chance…”

“Is something the matter?”

Richard leaned down slightly and asked. Lady Montague bit her lips several times before finally speaking.

“I happened to go out into the garden earlier, and I overheard the conversation between you and Grace.”

“…Did you now.”

Richard’s entire body tingled as if scorched by fire upon hearing Lady Montague’s confession. In that conversation, it was Grace Gurton who had confessed to him and Grace Gurton who had withdrawn her confession.

Richard Spencer had listened blankly to the confession like a stick stuck in the mud and then had to pretend he hadn’t heard it. On top of that, he felt as if he had been subjected to the humiliation of being told by a child, “I don’t want to play with you anymore,” ending their friendship.

If anyone should feel ashamed, it ought to be Grace Gurton. It shouldn’t be Richard Spencer.

Yet, why? Why was the embarrassment solely his? The thought that Lady Montague might know about the content of that conversation caused shame to rise in waves. He hadn’t even said much during it!

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. It’s just…”

“……”

“Don’t misunderstand me. I genuinely love you, and that will never change.”

Richard adjusted his posture. The fact that Lady Montague was speaking at such length meant that the subject she was about to broach was no trivial matter.

Perhaps she was worried because Grace Gurton had confessed her feelings for him. Was she about to ask her sinful nephew, who had stolen the heart of an innocent young lady, to take care of her future adopted daughter?

If that were the case, then Richard would have no choice but to, out of friendship, take Grace Gurton to Blenheim Palace and live a modest life for three generations…

“…Do you have feelings for Grace?”

“What…?”

Richard carefully analyzed the subject and object of the sentence he had just heard. Lady Montague had said “for Grace.” Therefore, the subject had to be Richard Spencer.

Me?

“Aunt, didn’t you say you overheard that conversation?”

If she had overheard, she wouldn’t be able to say that. He distinctly remembered that the one who had confessed was Grace Gurton, not Richard Spencer.

Lady Montague’s voice lowered. “I’m one of the people who knows you best.”

“……”

“You’ve never even considered Graham Harold a friend.”

“……”

“That’s why I was so surprised when you referred to Grace as a friend.”

“If that’s your only reason for suggesting I feel something special for Grace…”

“Richard.”

“……”

“You held Grace’s hand.”

At her words, Richard’s right eye twitched. Did he? Could he have?

Except during rugby matches, Richard Spencer avoided physical contact with others as much as possible. When he had joined the rugby club out of a sense of rebellion, he had repeatedly regretted his decision. The thought of rubbing against the sweaty bodies of other men was utterly repulsive to him.

Ever since the Spencer twins had contracted an infectious disease as children, the servants had been subjected to grueling work. That was because the Countess of Spencer had developed an obsession with cleanliness and hygiene.

Richard couldn’t escape her compulsions. His mother’s disdainful gaze at his scar, as if it were something filthy, made Richard more obsessed with cleanliness than anyone else in the house.

His aversion to physical contact with others stemmed from that past. Furthermore, he had almost no experience of being close to others physically. The only person who occasionally hugged or held his hand was Lady Montague, and even those instances were rare.

As Richard sifted through his memories like casting a net, a few scenes floated to the surface.

Pulling Grace Gurton’s wrist and leading her out of the Pump Room where she had been ridiculed, sitting beside her in the library rather than across from her while reading a worthless etiquette book titled “How to Use a Fan to Accept Gentlemen’s Dance Invitations,” and taking her hand without hesitation as they left the drawing room in front of Lady Montague…

Richard was appalled. These were all actions he had taken unconsciously. Was this what it felt like to be possessed?

“…It’s no different from how I escorted Eleanor d’Estrée.”

He composed himself and answered with feigned indifference. If necessary, Richard Spencer could suppress an inner inferno without letting even a wisp of smoke escape—a skill he had mastered.

And both Richard and Lady Mary Montague knew that his response was meaningless. When escorting Eleanor d’Estrée, Richard had acted like a cat forced to extend its claws.

“Richard, let me be blunt,” Mary said, her face a mix of anxiety and resolve. “I hope this is all just my misunderstanding. But even if it’s not, my feelings won’t change. You and Grace must never be together.”

At Lady Montague’s firm stance, a heavy, inexplicable feeling rose within Richard. It felt like the aching bitterness of the day after drinking too much.

I don’t even like her! Grace Gurton likes me, not the other way around!

But asking for an explanation here would be a disaster. Doing so would only deepen Lady Montague’s misunderstanding that Richard harbored feelings for Grace Gurton.

“You’re stating the obvious,” Richard replied, denying it outright. “Aunt, such words are an insult to me.”

He smiled effortlessly, like a painting, but Lady Montague shuddered. Despite their close relationship, there was an undeniable hierarchy between them. Although Richard Spencer had never imposed such authority on her and likely never would, moments like this reminded her of the power he held. Even a young cub is still a lion.

“Didn’t you first ask me to spend time with Grace Gurton? I merely treated her as I did Freya, nothing more.”

“…If that’s the case, I apologize. People tend to grow more foolish with age. It’s no excuse, but perhaps it explains my behavior.”

“That wasn’t my intention.”

Lady Montague’s concerns weren’t entirely unfounded. While her assumption about Richard’s feelings for Grace was uncomfortable, her words made Richard reflect on his own behavior. Perhaps calling her a friend had caused him to lose perspective.

Richard preferred practical realities. The world is full of tragic events—overthrown kings, wars, betrayals, and assassinations of fiancés—rather than the whimsical fantasies of magical romances.

Thus, he couldn’t afford to assign too much meaning to the kindness he’d shown Grace. Upon realizing this, Richard felt grateful to Grace for preventing him from being swept away by absurdities. Keeping her close might have led to trouble.

“It’s not you I’m worried about, Richard. You’re a good boy.”

Every mother believes her son is handsome and kind, and Lady Montague was no exception.

“What worries me is the Spencer name. Spencers never lose—especially in matters of marriage.”

“I understand.”

“I barely managed to convince Anthony to adopt Grace. Now that she’s our daughter, I want her to have a smooth, stable future.”

“I’m well aware.”

“But the Spencers! Even though I’m from that family, I find them insufferable. They’re the most rigid, stubborn people among the nobility—blockheaded.”

“……”

“If you and Grace were to become close, she would suffer again. The family would create an uproar, causing her pain and distress. Perhaps my fear blinded me to this.”

“I completely understand.”

“Grace is so naive that she doesn’t know how to guard her own heart. That’s why you need to push her away.”

Richard nodded, and Lady Montague’s expression softened as she smiled faintly.

“Now I can relax. I’ve been fretting over this for hours.”

Every mother believes her son is handsome and kind. And sons are often helpless against their mothers.

That’s why National Church believers pray not directly to the Son of God but to His Mother, asking her to intercede on their behalf. They trust that no son, not even the divine, can refuse his mother’s request.

For Richard Spencer, who regarded Lady Montague as a mother, he too was powerless against her. To reassure her, he even exaggerated his disdain.

“I couldn’t care less whether a lowborn, stuttering, insignificant woman likes me or not. And I’m certainly not idle enough to entertain such sentiments.”

Richard’s voice dripped with arrogance as he spoke. Lady Montague frowned slightly but didn’t press further.