Page 1 of Educated By the Earl (Second Sons of London 1)

Chapter One

Oakley, Essex—February 1812

Tessa Foster finishedthe chapter she read aloud and closed the book. She glanced up and saw her father’s eyes now closed. She sighed. Another day at Oakley.

Where nothing ever changed.

Four years ago, she had been on the eve of her come-out. By now, she would have thought herself married, with at least one child and hopefully another on the way. Instead, her beloved mother had grown terribly ill. Tessa had put off her come-out to nurse Mama. A year later, her beloved mother passed, never getting any better. Tessa regretted her mother would never see her daughter march down the aisle, much less be able to become a loving grandmother.

Then Papa collapsed in the cemetery after the burial. And Tessa’s world shrank even further.

Dr. Smith called it apoplexy, something she wasn’t familiar with. He told Tessa her father could die within hours—or linger for years. They had gotten the earl home and put him to bed. In the days ahead, they had discovered Papa could no longer speak. That the right side of his body no longer functioned. He had a wild look in his eyes and one side of his face drooped. She had stayed at his bedside day and night for weeks until Dr. Smith told her Papa was out of the woods. That he would live.

But this wasn’t living. It was barely existing.

Tessa spent a good portion of every day with her father. She helped his valet bathe him. She read to him. Talked with him. She had a small desk moved into his bedchambers and from there she handled her correspondence and wrote out menus. Almost every waking hour of the last three years was devoted to his care. Guilt filled her because she feared the situation could remain stagnant for years to come. Her youth was slipping away. She used to regularly visit her two cousins, Adalyn and Louisa, who were her best friends, but no visits had occurred in the last four years. She simply couldn’t leave Papa to go see them in London or at their country estates.

Instead, she spent long hours in this bedchamber, worrying about her father’s health and her own future.

Her uncle, who would inherit the title from his brother and become the next Earl of Paxton, had arrived two months after Papa fell ill. He now ran the estate, making the decisions the earl should make. He also went to town and stayed in the Paxton townhouse while there, attending the Season and living life as the earl in all but claiming the title itself. A lifelong bachelor who was in his late forties, he had wed at the end of last Season and brought home a child bride, Lady Beth, who was barely eighteen.

Tessa couldn’t stand Lady Beth. She felt the girl was pure evil and referred to her in her head as Lady Macbeth, after Shakespeare’s most famous female character. Lady Macbeth was possibly the most wicked person in literature—and Lady Beth came close to epitomizing evil incarnate. When she had arrived at Oakley last September, Lady Beth had made it known that once the current earl was gone, Tessa would also be leaving the house because it would then become the house of the next earl and countess.

She sighed, knowing her father’s death would not only devastate her but quite possibly leave her homeless. She couldn’t count on her uncle to stand up to his young wife because he was as greedy as she was. Tessa had never been comfortable in his presence, much less felt close to him. Even though he approached fifty, he seemed to have no mind of his own where his young wife was concerned. He would boot Tessa from Oakley without a second thought, merely to please Lady Macbeth.

If that happened, she hoped one of her two cousins’ families would take her in. Oddly enough, neither Adalyn nor Louisa had wed. Adalyn was Tessa’s age, while Louisa was a year younger. Both had made their come-outs and yet no weddings had occurred. The three women still wrote one another and from the letters, Adalyn revealed she was enjoying being in Polite Society too much to settle down with a boring lord. Louisa, whose mother had died when she was young, served as her father’s hostess. Louisa’s father worked in the War Office and held many dinners and affairs at his home that were business related. Louisa said her father needed her too much to manage his household and social affairs to allow her to wed. Louisa did write that when the war came to an end, she would seek a husband and allow her father to handle his own affairs.

Hopefully, one of her two uncles would allow Tessa to come and live with his family if the worst occurred. No,whenthe worst occurred. Tessa was certain Lady Macbeth would shove her out the door before her father’s body cooled.

She picked up the book again, ready to continue Voltaire’s interesting tale ofCandide. She had no idea if her father really understood anything said to him or what she read but it helped her to pass the time. Tessa glanced at her father and saw his eyes were now open, that wild look in them that was so unsettling to her.

Standing, she closed the book and rested it on the table and leaned over.

“How are you, Papa?” she asked, smoothing his hair. “I was reading to you when you fell asleep.”

He began making a guttural noise, which startled her. In the three years she had nursed him, no sound had ever emerged from him.

“What is it, Papa?” she asked eagerly. “Can you speak?”

Oh, if only things could go back to the way they were. Her father taking her riding on the property as they visited their tenants. Mama waiting for their return with a hearty tea in the drawing room. Plans for the dresses Tessa would wear and the events she would attend during her come-out being discussed.

The earl muttered something and then said, “Ov . . . oo.”

Tessa thought a moment and brightened. “Love you? Is that what you are saying, Papa?”

“Ov . . . oo,” he repeated.

She grasped his hands. “Oh, that is lovely, Papa. It is so good to hear you speak. Dr. Smith will be so impressed. And I love you, too.”

Tessa bent and brushed her lips against his brow. When she rose and smiled at him, her heart stopped.

The frantic look remained in his eyes—but it was frozen.

“Papa,” she cried, her heart lurching. “No, no, no.”

She touched her fingers to where his pulse should be beating, as Dr. Smith had taught her. Nothing. She held a finger just under his nostrils. Again, nothing.

With great reluctance, she brushed the palm of her hand across his eyes, lowering the lids, forever hiding the disturbing look in them. Tessa perched on the bed, her hands taking his. Raising them to her lips, she kissed the knuckles tenderly.

---