Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 86

86. The Ring’s Whereabouts

“Edmund Beaufort, what is that?”

Richard asked. Edmund nearly dropped the item he was holding.

“This… is Miss Grace Gurton’s portrait. I brought it because it’s finished.”

Madame Le Brun had sent a messenger to the Beaufort mansion yesterday. She informed him that Grace Gurton’s portrait was completed and, with the death of its commissioner, Lady Mary Montague, sought Edmund’s opinion on whom to deliver the painting.

Edmund rushed to Madame Le Brun’s studio and collected the portrait. Since he already had matters to confirm with Grace Gurton, this became the perfect excuse to visit the Montague mansion.

The painter’s skill was remarkable. Grace, dressed in a violet gown, looked as delicate as a single violet and as lively as a bluebird singing cheerfully. In Edmund Beaufort’s entirely biased view, it surpassed even the portrait of the Queen of Gallia.

“May I have a look?”

Richard Spencer glanced at the butler standing awkwardly nearby and headed toward the drawing room. Though he asked for permission, his demeanor made it clear he considered it unnecessary. His confident attitude was characteristic of the Spencer heir.

“I’ll prepare it at once.”

The butler took the portrait from Edmund. As Edmund hesitated, awkwardly standing there, he began inching toward the entrance, ready to leave.

“Please, follow me to the drawing room, Lord Edmund Beaufort.”

The Montague’s butler was among those who had witnessed Richard Spencer trample on Theresius Wilford’s marriage proposal. He had also clicked his tongue while watching Edmund Beaufort frequently visit the mansion with the painter.

Why would perfectly capable young nobles behave this way? Having risen from the lowest rank of Montague’s servants to the position of butler over decades, he knew better than to voice his thoughts. Yet he was not ignorant of the underlying intentions behind such unusual actions.

After all, few things in the world were as entertaining as watching someone else’s house burn or observing a lovers’ quarrel. Even the stern butler harbored an instinctive desire for amusement.

Especially when Richard Spencer alternated his sharp gaze between himself and Edmund Beaufort, silently issuing a clear command. Though unspoken, the meaning was unmistakable: bait the bear.

Thus, Edmund Beaufort, who had once stifled laughter while eavesdropping on Lancelot and Eleanor’s love quarrel in the Assembly Room, now found himself the central figure in another love triangle.

Following the butler’s lead, Edmund entered the drawing room. His sluggish posture resembled that of a bear retreating into its cage after a circus performance.

“Not bad.”

When the butler unveiled the portrait on an easel, Edmund once again admired the aesthetics captured within the frame. However, Richard Spencer’s evaluation was limited to just that.

Ingrint’s nobles considered sparing with praise to be a mark of refinement. Yet even they couldn’t help but soften their expressions when faced with something truly good, beautiful, or delicious.

Richard Spencer was equally restrained in his words. The highest praise he could muster, as befitting an Ingrint noble, was the ubiquitous phrase, “Not bad.”

Nevertheless, Edmund thought he heard the faint sound of Richard swallowing dryly. Often, a person’s true feelings weren’t revealed in their facial expressions but in areas they couldn’t control or weren’t conscious of.

The ability to discern and soothe the feelings of a sulking, feigning woman worked just as well on men. Before he knew it, Edmund had forgotten the purpose of his visit and was carefully observing Richard.

“By the way, Beaufort.”

Noticing the gaze on his neck, Richard straightened his posture and leaned slightly toward Edmund. Startled, Edmund, who had been admiring the elegant line of Richard’s neck, blinked rapidly like a startled bird.

“What are you holding in your hand?”

Richard had been more focused on what Edmund was holding than the portrait. Specifically, the square box resting lightly in his bear-like hand.

Could it be that this bastard also came to propose?

At a glance, it was clearly a ring case. From the moment Edmund stepped through the entrance, that box had captured Richard Spencer’s sharp instincts and hunting prowess.

When Edmund mentioned that Grace Gurton had gone out, Richard felt as if the sky was collapsing. However, instead of rushing out to the Royal Library to find her, he remained, his gaze locked on that conspicuous box.

In hunting, setting priorities is crucial. Chasing after the fleeing gazelle while ignoring the bear lingering nearby could lead to the bear attacking from behind.

Richard suppressed the impulse to immediately rush to Grace Gurton, choosing instead to confront Edmund Beaufort, who held an item he found utterly unacceptable.

“This… is a ring,” Edmund stammered, hastily hiding the box behind his back. Why on earth had he held it so openly? Caught off guard by Grace Gurton’s absence and Richard Spencer’s imposing presence, he had lost his composure.

“A ring?”

Could Richard be assuming he had come here to propose? Of course, Edmund’s visit wasn’t entirely without ulterior motives, but kneeling to propose without any emotional or physical connection with the woman? That was impossible for the romantic Edmund Beaufort.

“Are you here to propose, Beaufort? To whom?”

Richard Spencer’s smirk accompanied the anticipated question.

Even at sixteen, when he had his first encounter with a woman, Edmund hadn’t been this nervous. He slid the box he had been sitting on toward the tea table, and Richard scowled at the sight of it.

“Proposal? Nonsense. I brought it to show Miss Gurton.”

“A ring? Why? If it’s not for a proposal?”

Why was Richard asking so many questions? Edmund grumbled internally.

“It’s an item for the Beaufort auction next week. Something about it felt off, so I brought it to Miss Grace Gurton for confirmation.”

“Why bring an auction item to Grace Gurton for verification?”

Richard leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinized the box. Though he disliked the idea of handling something that had been under Edmund’s weight, he donned his gloves, opened the case, and examined its contents.

“I can’t understand why this ring is being auctioned.”

Upon seeing its contents, Richard’s green eyes widened in shock. Edmund Beaufort, who had also been curious about its background, had already inquired far and wide.

“Anyone involved in society would recognize this ring, Edmund.”

He was right. The small diamond ring surrounded by tiny emeralds had belonged to the late Mary Montague. Despite its modest value compared to her wealth and status, she had always worn it proudly. To those familiar with high society, it was well-known as Mary Montague’s engagement ring.

The Montague family hadn’t gone bankrupt, and there was no reason for Anthony Montague to auction off his late wife’s engagement ring. Suspicious, Edmund had questioned the intermediary who delivered the item.

The story was that Grace Gurton’s uncle, Viscount Lovelace, had arranged for the ring to be sold through someone else. Believing it would fetch a higher price at auction than in a stolen goods market, he had decided to list it there.

Viscount Lovelace, who had severed ties with Annabel Gurton, had also been estranged from Mary Montague for decades. Thus, he had no way of recognizing the famous ring. He simply assumed it was one of Grace Gurton’s possessions and chose to sell it.

“Unbelievable.”

When Edmund finished explaining, Richard’s expression was one of utter disbelief. Should he be relieved the ring was at least safe for now?

Then, a scene flashed before Richard Spencer’s mind—one he wished to ignore. But he pushed his reluctance aside and asked without hesitation.

“Beaufort, how did Viscount Lovelace come into possession of this ring?”

“According to him, Miss Gurton gave it to him personally.”

“She gave it to him?”

Could that be true? Regardless of its monetary value, the ring was Mary Montague’s keepsake. If Grace had it, it must have been bequeathed to her. Yet, she handed it over to Viscount Lovelace?

“There’s also a rumor that Miss Gurton plans to secure funds and invest in Viscount Lovelace’s ventures.”

“Who started that?”

“Apparently, the Viscount himself has been spreading the story.”

Could Grace really intend to hand over the wealth Lady Montague had gifted her to Viscount Lovelace? All because they were family? Using Mary Montague’s money?

Richard Spencer had a terrible habit—one that Grace Gurton would find unbearable—of fixating on a single idea and disregarding all other perspectives to draw his own conclusions. In Ingrintian society, this was described as a “not particularly admirable” trait.

The metaphorical match was struck in Richard’s eyes, sparking a flame that quickly consumed his light green irises. It was a firestorm on the verge of breaking loose—a storm that, according to Ingrintian understatement, was “not particularly admirable.”

“That can’t be, Young Earl.”

It was then that someone, like a drenched figure dousing themselves in water, intervened to quell the impending disaster. That someone was the Montague family’s experienced butler, who had faithfully served the late Lady Montague.