Page 48 of Educated By the Earl (Second Sons of London 1)

“I am going to Gentleman Jack’s establishment to spar this morning with Lord Ellington.”

“I see.”

Spencer waited a moment and then asked, “What exactly is it that you do see, Rigsby?”

“I shall merely suggest that you are most careful, my lord. Lord Ellington has a reputation of being quite skilled. Some say he could become a pugilist himself.”

Interesting that the earl was good enough to be a professional.

“I will take that into consideration, Rigsby. Have faith that I will return to you in one piece.”

“With perhaps a few bruises,” the valet muttered.

No, Ellington would be the one sporting bruises. Spencer would make certain of that. He had high hopes of doing enough damage so that the earl would call off his outing with Tessa this afternoon.

He went downstairs to breakfast, making sure not to overeat. He didn’t want to be full and sluggish during his bout with Ellington. After reading the newspapers, he retired to his study until Marsh summoned him with the news that Lord Ellington had arrived.

Leaving the correspondence on his desk, Spencer moved to the foyer, where he found Lord Ellington waiting.

“Ah, good morning, Lord Middlefield,” the earl said pleasantly, his dark eyes assessing Spencer. “I hope you are eager for our match today.”

“I am ready,” he said, not wanting to tip his hand and let Ellington know that he was aware of the man’s prowess in the ring.

“My carriage is waiting for us,” Ellington said, leading Spencer outside and into the waiting vehicle.

As they settled into the carriage, Ellington said, “Do you know anything about Gentleman Jack?”

“Not much,” he admitted, “other than he is John Jackson and was a former English heavyweight champion. He took the title when I was a boy.”

“I was at that match,” Ellington bragged. “I was thirteen and my father thought it important I witness it.” He settled back into his seat. “It was held in Essex at Hornchurch. My father told me Jackson was the underdog by ten to one odds in the betting—but I knew a champion when I saw one. He was younger than Daniel Mendoza, the titleholder. Several inches taller and a good three stones heavier. Father said it was only the third time Jackson had fought professionally and that his lack of experience would show.”

Ellington chuckled. “I still asked for ten pounds to bet with. Against Mendoza. I earned one hundred pounds that day.”

Spencer didn’t think Ellington had earned anything because he hadn’t done any work. He despised gambling and gamblers but kept silent, letting the earl talk on.

“It took nine rounds before Mendoza was defeated. Jackson bullied his opponent into a corner of the ring. Grabbed his hair with one hand to steady him and battered Mendoza’s head with a series of vicious uppercuts. The champion fought back but was knocked out a short while later, beaten into defeat. Mendoza challenged the hair-pulling but the two umpires ruled it to be legal.”

The earl took off his hat and ran a hand through his dark waves. Grinning, he added, “Several pugilists after that bout shaved their heads to keep from having their opponents employ the same tactic.” He replaced his hat. “Don’t worry, Middlefield. I have no intention of yanking you around by your hair today.”

“If you did, it would be your last day on earth.”

Ellington looked startled at Spencer’s words and then roared with laughter.

“You are a kidder, I see.”

He wasn’t kidding in the least.

“I’ve taken lessons with Gentleman Jack myself,” the braggart continued. “He retired the year after he won the championship and now teaches three times a week at his academy during the Season. Though our government makes boxing illegal, it condones the practice as good exercise, as long as gentlemen of thetonare sparring under closed conditions.”

“What have you learned through your lessons?” he asked, curious about what the former champion might have taught others.

“The Gentleman actually patterns himself after Daniel Mendoza’s boxing style, believe it or not. Mendoza published a book,The Art of Boxing, almost twenty-five years ago. It’s all about the stance. You must slightly bend your body, with your head and shoulders forward. Keep your knees slight bent and loose. Hold your fists up for self-defense. That position is called the guard. You keep opponents at bay with a left straight jab.”

Spencer took in all that Ellington revealed. He was three inches over six feet and possessed a powerful, muscular build. His opponent was slightly over six feet and not as broad in the chest. He now knew how Ellington would defend himself and smiled broadly.

Because Spencer was left-handed.

He had only gotten into a few brawls during his school years. Being left-handed always came as a surprise to his challenger. It threw them off.

He hoped the same would be true when he tussled with Lord Ellington.

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