Page 5 of Educated By the Earl (Second Sons of London 1)

Chapter Two

London—March 1813

Spencer threw onclothes and slipped from his London townhouse before the sun had peeked over the horizon. Usually, he would saddle Pilgrim and head to Rotten Row for a bit of exercise. Unfortunately, the horse had pulled up lame yesterday just as they had returned to Mayfair. He thought it better to give his mount another day to recover before taking him out again.

Instead, he would take to the streets this morning. He rarely saw anyone this time of day, save for a few grooms exercising horses.

And the woman from the townhouse across the street.

He had seen her every day since his arrival in town two weeks ago. She would emerge from the townhouse directly across from his, wearing a dark cloak, and set out on foot. He supposed she enjoyed the early morning quiet as much as he did. Spencer figured her to be the wife or daughter of the Earl of Uxbridge, who owned the residence. The earl had sent an invitation to dinner when Spencer first arrived at his London address but he had declined, not bothering to give a reason. He wasn’t ready to be out and about in Polite Society just yet. That would come in three weeks with the start of the Season. Plenty of time for him to meet Uxbridge then.

No other tenants seemed to be on the square just yet. He supposed they would begin arriving as the Season drew near. For his part, Spencer liked that he was able to keep to himself for now as he set out at a brisk pace.

He had returned to England after he received word last September of his father’s death from dropsy. Middlefield had died in July but it took a few months for the solicitor’s letter to catch up to Spencer. Wellington’s troops had been on the march after their success at the Battle of Salamanca and it surprised him that the letter had found him as quickly as it did. With regret, he resigned his commission and returned home. The army was his family. His chosen family. He hadn’t even known he was destined for a military career until that first day at school when he’d met Owen and Everett, two second sons who’d informed Spencer of the career path they would all take in the future.

Those two had been constants in his life, along with two other men who were cousins, Percival Perry and Winston Cutler. The trio of friends had met the pair when they all arrived at Cambridge and the five had become fast friends. They had all joined His Majesty’s army after university and, fortunately, were assigned to three regiments that were all under Wellington’s command. It enabled them to continue living together, fighting alongside one another as they tried to end the menace of Bonaparte. Leaving the brothers of his heart had been done so reluctantly.

Spencer had become the heir apparent only a week into his military service when Wilford had died. It was never truly made clear to him what had happened, only that he was the new viscount and would succeed upon his father’s death and become the Earl of Middlefield. His father had requested that Spencer resign his commission immediately and come home, the better to learn more about his future role.

He had refused.

Duty and honor meant everything to him. He wouldn’t walk away from a country that needed him, especially one in the midst of war. Spencer dedicated himself to his fellow officers and the men serving under him, patiently training them, supporting them, and leading them into battle. He never once used his viscount title in the army, preferring to be known as Lieutenant Haddock, then Captain Haddock, and most recently Major Haddock. He saw no need to race home when his father was in perfect health and could manage the estate and the responsibilities of the earldom.

It was a choice he celebrated over his years in the army. Spencer proved to be a strong leader, driven and confident. He enjoyed the discipline and camaraderie of the army and the chance to remain with those he cared for. Wilford, being ten years Spencer’s senior, had never built any brotherly bonds with his younger brother. Their father had favored Wilford in everything and ignored Spencer his entire life—until the favorite son died and the younger one was needed. He told himself he would, in time, return to England and learn what he could from his father.

Until the letter came announcing the earl’s death.

Spencer felt no sorrow at his father’s passing. No remorse for having remained in the army. He did know that he must return to England and take up the mantle of the Earl of Middlefield. Bidding his fellow officers and friends farewell, he had returned to Stoneridge. The estate had excellent management. Pimmel, the Stoneridge steward, had been patient in teaching Spencer all he needed to know about the land and its people. Callender, the butler, and Mrs. Callender, the housekeeper, kept the household running effortlessly. It was thanks to their efforts that he was able to leave as soon as he had and make for London.

Here, he had found his townhouse incredibly large, along with a staff headed up by Marsh, his butler, and Mrs. Marsh, his housekeeper. The only servant to have accompanied him from Kent was Rigsby, his valet. Rigsby had served as valet to Wilford until his death and then traveled to Stoneridge, where he became the earl’s new valet. Middlefield had recently pensioned off his own valet so the timing had been good. Since Spencer had no valet, Rigsby inherited that position. Though he didn’t see the need for a valet, he knew it was imperative to have one. Polite Society would judge him to be uncivilized and uncouth without one.

He turned another corner, continuing his walk. Perhaps he should walk the streets more in order to become familiar with London. Usually, he was in his carriage and didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings. That would soon change. He would be invited to balls and routs, card and garden parties, the opera and theatre. All because he was now a member of theton.

In search of a wife.

It was only because Stoneridge was running so well that Spencer even deigned to come to town for the Season. He knew from talk that it was home to the Marriage Mart, where he would search for a bride. Thank goodness he had no illusions of finding something as ethereal as love. He wanted a basictonmarriage, one that would see a good-sized dowry arrive into his coffers so that he could make some improvements at Stoneridge. Love wasn’t a part of unions in theton. Marriages were made to increase wealth and social position.

His father had never showed him any attention, much less love. The same had been true of Wilford. Perhaps, long ago, his mother might have loved him. Spencer had no true memories of her. She had died in childbirth, along with the babe she delivered, when he was barely two. He wondered if things might have been different if she had survived.

What he did know was that getting an heir was critical. He believed his father foolish to never have remarried. What if Spencer had been killed while at war? Who would have inherited the Middlefield title and lands then? No, he was going to find a bride and get her with child as quickly as possible. He wanted to get as many children from her as he could. Though he had felt like an only child himself, he had always longed for siblings close in age to play with. He would see that his family was large and close-knit, spending time with both sons and daughters. Where servants had taught him how to ride and hunt, Spencer would teach his own children those things. He felt a deep sense of responsibility and would make certain his offspring spent time with him. Why, he might even grow to love one or more of them.

But never a wife. The idea of intimacy with a woman didn’t appeal to him. He didn’t want to pretend to love his countess. It would be enough if he respected her and she produced the children he required. Once she had, they could go their separate ways as most couples of Polite Society did. Spencer would pursue his own interests and his countess could do the same. If she died in childbirth, he would merely replace her with another woman if he thought more children were necessary. Thus, his reason for being in town for the Season.

He carried high hopes that he would find a bride quickly. If he did so, he could put a halt to attending society affairs, which he thought would be incredibly boring. Spending his days and nights with the same group of people—all strangers to him—terrified him. The quicker he could select a wife and wed her, the better. It would give him more time to devote to matters in the House of Lords, which he found fascinating. In fact, if he could wed and bed a bride and see her with child, she could return to the country for her confinement while he dealt with political matters in London. Naturally, he would return to Stoneridge for the birth of his first child. He would not make the same mistakes his own father had made. He was a better man than the earl had ever been and would certainly be a better father.

Making a last turn, he headed for home. He was beginning to enjoy having a comfortable bed to sleep in and regular meals to warm his belly. Though he had never complained about the rough life in camp, the luxuries at Stoneridge and his London townhouse were growing on him.

As he strode quickly along the pavement, he saw up ahead a woman turn the corner and head in the same direction he did. Recognizing her by her cloak as his neighbor, Spencer decided to catch up to her and introduce himself. Walking along, he wondered if she was the countess or one of the daughters of the household. It would be convenient if she were a daughter and he came to know her even before the Season began. She might make for a good countess. Already, he knew she enjoyed daily exercise. She moved with purpose. If she were intelligent and could hold a decent conversation, his work would be done. He could offer for her before the Season even began and not have to go through all the motions of courting a woman, which had been explained to him in great detail by Rigsby. The valet had been a font of information, cluing Spencer in to many details he had limited knowledge about. He might enjoy picking up a book on history or economics but those did not contain the everyday essentials he needed to know to move successfully through Polite Society.

He had almost caught up to the woman when a figure stepped out, brandishing a knife. In the still of the morning, the thief’s voice carried as he said, “Gimme your coin, my lady. Now.”

Spencer started to run as the woman replied, “I have none with me but I live just ahead. Come eat something and we can talk.”

Was she mad—asking a robber to dine with her?

He reached the pair and knocked the knife from the young thief’s hand before soundly punching the bastard in the face. The boy crumpled to the ground.

Turning to the lady, expecting her gratitude, he was stunned when she slammed her palms into his chest, knocking him back. Spencer stumbled a moment and then regained his balance.

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