Page 87 of Educated By the Earl (Second Sons of London 1)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Spencer rose, havingonly slept a couple of hours after his late night visit to Tessa. He was grateful that last night’s musicale had ended much earlier than the previous evening’s ball had, giving him the opportunity to spend that magical time with his fiancée. Already, he despised the late hours of the Season. Being a former military man, he was used to rising well before the sun did so. He knew from having grown up in the country that country hours were quite different from city ones. He couldn’t wait to return there. With Tessa.

As his wife.

As he dressed for his usual early morning ride, Spencer couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He closed his eyes, returning to the moment when he had joined with Tessa. He could still smell the scent of lavender that clung to him. Feel her silky hair and satin skin. Taste her essence.

Her spontaneous invitation to her bed last night had shocked him. He had thought her a perfect lady and still thought she was. But he knew now that she had a sensual side to her nature, one he couldn’t wait to further explore. Though she had been a virgin, Tessa hadn’t shied away from anything in the lovemaking process. She hadn’t seemed self-conscious about her own naked body and had looked upon his with curiosity.

And desire.

Spencer knew with experience that Tessa would grow bolder as they learned what satisfied the other. He eagerly awaited their next encounter. It still astounded him that he had won her heart and she would soon become his countess. He couldn’t wait to start his life with her. He never dreamed of marriage when he had been a soldier, much less thinking he would marry for love. His life had changed radically in the past year. He was now an earl. A man betrothed to a woman probably too good for him, but happy that she loved him, nonetheless.

Spencer slipped from the house, which had yet to stir, and headed for the mews. He greeted Pilgrim, stroking his nose and then saddling the horse. As was his custom, he rode from Mayfair toward Hyde Park and would ride Rotten Row in the early morning peace. He did not see Tessa out for her daily morning walk as he went, doubting she would keep to that during the Season. He knew he had exhausted her last night and hoped she would get the rest she deserved.

But he did hope they would keep to a very different form of early morning exercise once they were wed. One which would bring them great joy—and eventually children. Why, Tessa might now be carrying his babe after last night’s coupling. Thoughts of waking up next to her for a lifetime had him almost turning Pilgrim back to Mayfair. He resisted the urge, knowing he couldn’t call at this early an hour, much less make his way to her bedchamber and love her completely and thoroughly.

As he approached the entrance to the park, he remembered her saying she did enjoy riding. Once he left Doctors’ Commons with the special license, he would go to Tattersalls and purchase that beautiful chestnut mare for her that he had seen. It would serve as a wedding present. Riding gave him such joy and it was something he knew they could share together. Spencer pictured them teaching their children to ride and had to blink back the tears which began to fill his eyes.

All he wanted in life was Tessa and the family they would create. It seemed impossible that a dream he had never dreamed suddenly existed for him—and would now come true.

He pushed Pilgrim now, giving the horse his head as they rode through the park and toward Rotten Row. The place stood deserted and the hoofbeats of his horse echoed loudly in the silence. As he turned along the row, it startled him to see a carriage in the midst of the path. Quickly, he pulled up on the reins, bringing Pilgrim to a halt in order not to crash into the vehicle. He hadn’t the foggiest clue why it would be standing here, blocking the path.

Seeing a coachman in the driver’s seat, he called out, “What the devil, man?”

The door to the coach swung open and a dark-clad gentleman climbed from it. He turned and Spencer recognized something about the man’s profile.

Ellington . . .

The earl approached. Wariness filled Spencer. His focus was fixed on the earl, so much that he did not hear anyone behind him until it was too late.

Without warning, someone gripped his arm and jerked him from his horse.

Spencer fell to the ground, the air whooshing from him, as strong hands grabbed both his arms and yanked him to his feet. He whipped his head from side to side, finding two large men holding him as he tried to catch his breath again. He pulled on his arms, trying to free himself, missing the fact that Ellington now stood in front of him.

A sudden blow to his gut startled him. His knees buckled. Only the fact that the men had hold of him kept him on his feet. As he struggled against them, still fighting to get enough air into his lungs, he saw Ellington’s predatory smile.

Spencer went cold inside.

“It’s a good thing I know all about your movements, Middlefield,” the earl began, his eyes lazily looking Spencer up and down.

Again, a quick blow from nowhere stunned him. He wheezed, battling to get a breath.

“You humiliated me,” his enemy continued. “It’s rare to find a man who will stand up and spar with me because of my reputation as being the finest boxer among the gentlemen of theton. I usually have to match my fists and wits against a professional.”

Spencer figured it was time for Ellington to strike him again. He tightened his belly and chest and while the punch hurt, it didn’t daze him as before.

“Everyone wants a go at me,” Ellington continued. “All because they think I am now beatable. Because of you.”

Two more punches occurred, both again in his gut.

The earl paused and looked at his fists, which Spencer saw had leather strips wrapped around them for protection. He twisted, trying to break free, but his captors held fast.

So he viciously kicked Ellington in his crown jewels.

The earl shrieked, staggering back. He collapsed to the ground, folding himself small, as if Spencer could do him further harm.

As Ellington lay there, Spencer slammed his heel into the knee of the man on his right. It buckled but the man, whom Spencer believed to be a professional pugilist, held fast. To counter his attack, both men twisted Spencer’s arms behind his back now. They held him so tight that he was afraid if he struggled overmuch, he would only break both arms, leaving him helpless. Ceasing his struggles, he concentrated on Ellington.

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