Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 73

73. A Losing Game

“The agenda is the revocation of Richard Spencer’s status as Young Earl.”

As Freya’s words spilled out, Richard felt all the tension in his rigid body suddenly dissipate. A disbelieving chuckle escaped through his tightly closed lips.

After that, Richard Spencer said nothing. His fingers, which had been rhythmically tapping his left temple, fell still.

He had thought the Countess’s silence was unusual. She had secluded herself at the Bath villa, supposedly out of her mind with longing for her estranged son. But it seemed he had underestimated Elaine Stuart, who had once been the princess of Ingrint and was now Elaine Spencer, the Countess.

Using Grace Gurton and other petty issues as distractions, she had set this scheme into motion while Richard had been too preoccupied to notice.

She had been in consistent communication with the Duke of Charlotte. Previously, their correspondence had been little more than an exchange of pointless letters—Spencer’s veiled demands to approve Lancelot and Eleanor’s marriage while relinquishing territorial rights in Gallia, and Charlotte’s stubborn refusals. But behind the scenes, the Countess had conspired with the Duke to orchestrate this plot.

It felt like a blow to the chest.

“Stop the meeting, Richard.”

Freya’s urgent voice cut through his thoughts.

“…Is that necessary?”

“What? What do you mean?”

Freya’s eyes widened as she gaped at Richard’s muttered response.

“Is the position of Young Earl so important? Important enough to drive someone to this extent? To the point where they don’t care what happens to their own child?”

To confess, he was sick of it all. It wasn’t a position he had wanted, nor one he had earned through his own efforts. He had been born the eldest son, and when his position was in jeopardy, Lady Mary Montague had supported him.

Even so, there were two reasons why he hadn’t voluntarily relinquished the title. The first was out of respect for Mary Montague’s wishes, and the second was to deny his mother, the Countess, her desires.

None of the reasons were for himself. He had lived a noble’s life out of obligation and duty, not out of personal desire.

Sometimes, he thought about throwing it all away.

When had such thoughts first entered his mind? Before the minute hand of the clock could even move a notch, Richard Spencer found the answer.

Perhaps it was when he grew closer to Grace Gurton. Those fleeting daydreams, like strange and idle dreams, had crossed his mind. What if he abandoned everything and lived modestly with her at Blenheim Palace? Those clumsy fantasies…

Were they really just daydreams? Could it be that he had secretly longed for such a simple life all along?

Her bare face without pretense, her unrefined yet heartfelt words, a warm piece of rustic Ingrint scone. And Grace Gurton.

“Richard…”

Freya’s soft voice broke through his thoughts. She had just witnessed Richard Spencer unconsciously smiling in this dire situation.

“It’s fine to let the meeting proceed.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

Freya screamed in frustration.

“How can they deny the position to someone who would recklessly elope with his brother’s fiancée? Or to the woman who would take that hand and run away? How could such a brazen woman ever become the lady of Spencer? It’s unbearable. I could never forgive someone like that.”

“……”

“No one can replace you as the Young Earl. How could Lancelot ever take your place? Lancelot isn’t a Spencer. He’s a Stuart!”

“Freya.”

“Lancelot could never lead this family. In the end, Mother would only use Lancelot as a puppet while pulling the strings from behind.”

Freya Spencer was indeed astute.

Richard couldn’t help but smile at his perceptive younger sister. He wondered if Mary Montague had been like this as a child.

If women could inherit titles, he would gladly yield his position to her. No, if such laws had existed in Ingrint, there wouldn’t have been a need for him to step aside in the first place. Mary Montague, or rather, Mary Spencer, would already be the current Countess.

“Send someone to Lady Montague, Richard. Have her speak at the meeting in two days, please?”

To ask for help after failing to properly apologize would be shameless. Besides, Richard didn’t want help.

“That won’t happen.”

Richard Spencer had made up his mind.

The family meeting, presided over by Elaine Spencer, the Countess, would, as always, take place without James Spencer, the Earl, taking any action. During the meeting, the old men present would discuss “the matter of revoking Richard Spencer’s title as Young Earl.” Richard was prepared to accept the meeting’s outcome with humility.

Richard had always lost. Except for the date and time of his birth, he had never bested Lancelot, whether through effort or luck.

This time would be no different. He had no intention of trying, and luck alone wouldn’t allow him to surpass his younger brother. In the absence of Mary Montague, Richard Spencer’s position as Young Earl would undoubtedly be revoked.

However, one thing had changed amidst the familiar misfortune. Richard Spencer no longer cared.

It didn’t matter if he lost this game. Losing didn’t bother him. When the match ended, there would be another conclusion waiting for him.

Perhaps the end of the rainbow was rooted somewhere within Blenheim Palace. Beneath it, hidden in a treasure chest, lay a modest and humble life, barely enough for three generations to live on, and Grace Gurton.

Freya Spencer gazed at the transformed Richard Spencer with a subtle expression. Then, quietly, she stood up.

The fight over titles wasn’t hers to fight. Unable to hide the hint of regret and sorrow that washed over her, Freya left Richard’s study. That was as far as Freya Spencer could go.

***

Lady Mary Montague’s condition worsened by the hour, by the minute. Though she occasionally opened her clouded eyes to exchange lighthearted remarks with Anthony Montague and Grace Gurton, who remained by her bedside, her body had long since weakened.

“M-Madam, please let Richard Spencer, the Young Earl, know about this…”

Grace pleaded, her tone desperate.

The Montague family’s physician had foretold her death. Anthony Montague still couldn’t bring himself to accept the doctor’s prognosis.

The mansion was shrouded in a somber atmosphere. The servants moved cautiously, as if treading on thin ice, circulating like ghosts within the cold, desolate air.

“Not yet.”

Mary Montague answered with great difficulty.

Today, she too had received the summons for the family meeting Elaine Spencer had called. The meeting was scheduled for tomorrow. The agenda…

It was an utterly brazen move. Lady Montague recalled the vicious face of Elaine Spencer, the Countess, and the expression of young Richard Spencer struggling to hold back tears beneath it.

This time, there was nothing she could do to help. Even if she attended the meeting in her current condition, it would do more harm than good. Revealing that the Young Earl’s strongest ally was near death would only disadvantage Richard further.

She had tried her best to protect Richard Spencer but had never truly grasped the child’s heart. As she had once said, he may have yearned for an extra glance rather than the title of heir. She had missed that.

Though she had repeatedly told herself she loved, cherished, and wished for his happiness, she had not paid close attention to what Richard wanted or didn’t want. She believed that ensuring he upheld his place and became a great Earl was her way of loving and cherishing him. She thought that would make him happy.

She had advised him against avoidance and evasion, teaching him not to sever connections. But she had failed to deeply understand why he avoided, evaded, and severed.

She had hoped Eleanor d’Estrée would become a good gardener who could prune Richard’s decayed roots. But Eleanor had never done so. Instead, Lady Montague had left such tasks to someone in the future while clinging to her place in reality, justifying herself as protecting Richard Spencer.

Just until this meeting.

Whether Richard retained his title as Young Earl or lost it, she would have no regrets about the outcome. Whatever happened, she planned to welcome the result.

If only she could hold on until then, to take just a few more breaths.

“Tomorrow, once the Spencer family meeting ends, bring Richard to me.”

She would welcome him with open arms but also scold him thoroughly for his defiance.

“Just a little longer, Grace.”

Mary Montague spoke in a soft, fragmented voice, her laughter faint. Then, she slipped into unconsciousness.

Watching Richard Spencer’s rebellion hadn’t been so bad. It made him feel like a real son.