Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 99

99. Provocation

Richard Spencer sat upright by the water. His red hair was reflected on the surface of the stream, and as the water gently rippled, it was tinted a reddish hue. A few fallen, dried leaves drifted onto the surface, forming circular ripples.

As soon as Sebastian boarded the carriage to Lydon, Richard slowly rode his horse to Cherry Hinton. It was his first outing after spending days buried in bed, ruminating on the moment he proposed to Grace Gurton.

He couldn’t afford to idle away his time in Grentabridge any longer. Richard Spencer was a Young Earl, and he had a duty to live up to the responsibilities of his station.

When he impulsively informed Sebastian of his decision to come here, he had naturally assumed he’d be heading to Lydon in the same carriage as Grace Gurton. Just like that first time, when he couldn’t refuse Lady Mary Montague’s request and ended up traveling alone with Grace to Bath by carriage.

Unlike then, he’d subtly slide over to sit next to Grace, nonchalantly offer his shoulder, and accidentally bump elbows with her. Then, if the carriage jolted on an unpaved country road and she fell forward, he’d catch her, pretending to be concerned, lift her up, and keep holding her hand—

That was how he envisioned it unfolding without a doubt!

Whenever he became entangled with Grace Gurton, it felt like being bewitched and competing in a contest where he couldn’t remember the process. By the time he came to his senses, hearing the final whistle, the ball had bounced out of the pitch somewhere. And he was left chastising himself as a player who had performed miserably.

When matches like that kept repeating, even the player had to make a decision. Whether to keep playing or to give up entirely.

At this point, it felt as if the entire universe was conspiring to thwart his every deviation. Proposing to Grace Gurton had been a deviation in itself. Perhaps Lady Montague’s words were correct: getting engaged to the Little Duchess of Devonshire might be the proper path Richard Spencer, the Young Earl, should follow.

One of the businesses Richard had invested in was putting its full efforts into developing steam locomotives. A few weeks ago, a steam-powered passenger ship named Archimedes had begun trial operations along the route connecting Indus, Ingrint’s largest colony, to Lydon.

According to the reports submitted by the business, it was more important to construct and maintain safe railway tracks than to develop the trains themselves. Trains absolutely had to run along the tracks.

If, for some reason, they derailed, the passengers and crew’s lives would be endangered. The train cars could also be irreparably damaged.

As the heir to the Spencer family, Richard had veered his train off its predetermined track in a bold move to reach the end of the rainbow. For now, everyone remained unharmed, and the train itself was still intact, but there was no telling when the vanished rainbow might reappear.

Should he return to the well-maintained tracks? Would it be better to continue driving toward the originally intended destination, rather than the rainbow’s end?

He couldn’t forcibly drag a woman who didn’t want to be by his side. His pride wouldn’t allow it. It was impossible to have everything one desired. Even a queen couldn’t achieve that.

Though she ruled as the supreme authority of Ingrint and held everyone beneath her feet, Queen Anne Stuart had no heir. She was a woman who had endured numerous miscarriages, stillbirths, and the deaths of young sons and daughters.

Richard Spencer, too, had been born into an enviable set of circumstances, lacking in nothing. But love had no place in his life, nor did it seem likely to appear. The devotion he should have received from his parents and the affection of the woman he cared for were values unrelated to him.

Such circumstances were, in truth, not extraordinary. Few nobles made good parents. The fact that Richard was a twin and that the Countess was peculiar made his case harsher, but beneath the surface, many households shared the same hidden truths.

Marriages based on love were even rarer. For both the high and low nobility, marriage was the best means to maintain, preserve, and prosper their families. Perhaps that was why they couldn’t become good parents.

Therefore, it was best to end this deviation here. When Sebastian returned, it would be reasonable to leave the guards in Grentabridge to protect Grace Gurton and depart for Lydon as originally planned.

The cheeks that had blushed pink like peonies, the bright, sparkling eyes, and the wriggling fingers unsure of where to place themselves—he hadn’t realized how precious they were when they were there. Only when the flush faded, the light in her eyes dimmed, and her fingers stiffened did he finally understand.

The water’s surface blurred what he didn’t want to face and selectively revealed only what he wanted to see.

The current’s speed changed constantly, depending on the strength of the wind, the amount of water, and the terrain. The water’s color shifted with the sunlight, passing clouds, and raindrops.

When the water surged, Richard’s reflection distorted. When it flowed gently, his face appeared serene. In bright sunlight, it brightened; under a sky covered with clouds, it darkened; and when rain fell, it wavered.

When Richard wanted to avoid looking directly at the depths of his heart, he came to the water. To turn away and escape from his true feelings, he would gaze long at his reflection on the surface.

That was why he had come to Cherry Hinton today. To steel himself, to look away, to escape. And to successfully sever ties with Grace Gurton.

He would at least take care of the possibility of whatever Theresius Wilford might do. Looking back, that man occasionally acted without knowing his place.

For instance, on the first day of the June Festival, when he insulted Richard and threw a punch. Never before had anyone dared to behave so arrogantly and rudely toward the Young Earl of Spencer.

And wasn’t it on the day of the failed proposal that he grabbed Richard by the collar? That too, in front of Lady Mary Montague. Such actions were the height of impudent folly.

He probably fancied himself a king of Cornwall. Sitting on a fortune wrung from exploiting children as young as four or five in tin mines, he must have grown accustomed to living without understanding the boundaries of what he could and couldn’t do.

Already cast out by his father, with his return to central politics uncertain, and the existence of an illegitimate child widely known, he could no longer dream of marrying into any respectable family. Men like him, when pushed to their limits, always did the same thing.

They resorted to violence against those weaker than themselves.

For now, it seemed he was targeting the young ladies and mistresses of Grentabridge, but it was only a matter of time before Grace Gurton became his next target. He wouldn’t dare touch the Spencer or Montague families, who had contributed to his downfall.

Once enough guards were stationed to protect Grace, there would be no more need to worry. Theresius Wilford wouldn’t live in Grentabridge forever.

Once his temper cooled, Baron Wilford would likely take his only son back to Cornwall. Until then, Richard intended to entrust Grace’s safety entirely to Sebastian and wash his hands of the matter.

Perhaps the face of the current Richard Spencer bore an expression entirely different from the resolve he was repeating to himself now. Were he to stand before a mirror, it would faithfully reveal the distorted truth, with lingering regrets dripping down his face.

A mirror was a brutally honest object. It reflected what one didn’t want to see and forced one to face what they wished to avoid.

Thus, coming to Cherry Hinton today was the result of being driven by an irresistible force. The water always cleverly concealed the parts of himself he wanted to avoid and ultimately allowed him to look away.

Raindrops began to fall from the sky, scattering over the water’s surface. Richard Spencer’s face wavered with the ripples. Carried along by the spreading waves, the true feelings he sought to suppress were pushed further away. Just as he had intended.

“Richard Spencer.”

Ha, what terrible timing.

A grating voice came from behind. Richard tore his gaze away from the distorted water and stood up. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

“The esteemed Young Earl is playing narcissist again, I see.”

Theresius Wilford approached, swaggering through the rain. The strong stench of cheap gin lingered in the air.

“Wilford, it seems you’ve given up pretending to be a model student. Dropped the act, have you?”

Richard frowned as he responded. A nobleman, drinking cheap liquor and behaving drunkenly—what a disgrace. Especially in front of a high-ranking aristocrat.

When Queen Anne legalized the domestic production and distribution of gin, the Spencer family, as always, had been on her side. Yet Richard often thought that the spirit could bring ruin to the nation.

“Richard, were you interested in a woman I discarded?”

Such was Theresius Wilford’s life as well.