Page 49 of Earl of St. Seville

Sin felt the weight of her secret even as her father’s face clouded with confusion.

“You are here to support St. Seville?” Desmond’s stare widened in shock, just as Sin’s would have two days prior if anyone had told him Lady Patience Lane would not only stand in his corner but also teach him Ivory Bess’s famed maneuvers. “After all these years of sending me to unsavory areas all across London to distribute your pamphlets. After all the friends I’ve lost because of my stance on pugilism. It has all been a fool’s errand?”

Suddenly, it was only Desmond, Patience, and him in the warehouse as everything and everyone around them faded.

Patience’s dedication and passion wasn’t a fool’s errand…had never been such.

The earl must know that.

“It is my fault, my lord,” Sin offered. “It was I who persuaded Pat—Lady Patience—to instruct me. She did not want to. I am responsible for bringing her to Seven Dials.”

Lady Patience’s downcast expression at her father’s fury made it necessary for Sin to speak what he did. Would Patience know his intent was never to lie to her but instead to protect her from the hard decision he’d made?

His words fell on deaf ears. Desmond never once took his stare from Patience, not even to acknowledge or reprimand Sin for daring to bring Patience to the West End.

“We can speak about it on the way home.” Desmond gestured for Patience to proceed him from the building. “St. Seville, you would be wise not to set foot in Southlund’s House again. You are not welcome at Marsh Manor either.” The earl glanced from Patience and past Sin. “Good day, Coventry. Holstrom.”

Patience swept past Sin and turned back to where her father waited.

Could it be that she deliberated if she wanted to accompany her father home?

He saw the question in her clouded eyes, more blue than gray in that instant.

Sin would never ask her to choose between him and her family. There would only ever be one choice for her. It was the same for him. They would always choose their family.

When he’d lied to Patience, it had been because of his responsibility to his family and the future of his estate.

He wanted to tell her it was all right, that she owed him nothing. There shouldn’t be any confliction when it came to deciding between Sin and her father. There was no decision to be made. Her allegiance belonged to Desmond.

But Patience didn’t glance back again, only strode past her father and out the door into the brisk, cold night.

It shouldn’t matter, but her departure wounded him far more than any thrown fist could. It wasn’t something that caused him injury that would heal with time. When Patience left, she took a piece of him with her.

What remained was far more painful than the bruises to his chest and face and the cuts on his knuckles.

Something no amount of time or distance could heal.

It would remain open, broken without chance of repair.

Perhaps it was for the best. His injuries from pugilism would heal, but to take from Patience the life she deserved was something Sin could never do.

A hand clapped Sin’s back, sending a sharp burst of pain down into his legs and up his neck.

“Well, St. Seville,” Holstrom said, standing at his side. “You cannot say I did not caution you against entangling yourself with Desmond and his sharp-tongued shrew of a daughter.”

Sin turned swiftly, his clenched fist slamming into Holstrom’s nose, sending fresh blood cascading down the lord’s chin and onto his pristine, white linen shirt and neckcloth.

“Never—I mean never—shall Lady Patience’s name or any reference to her or her family cross your lips again. Let that be my words of caution to you, Holstrom.”

Holstrom held his nose, blood oozing through his fingers and he stared at Sin with rounded, shocked eyes as the color drained from his face.

Before his temper flared any hotter and his fury took the small amount of control Sin still held, he elbowed past Holstrom, making certain his fists remained by this sides as he moved toward the Earl of Coventry, who stood several feet away.

“St. Seville?” Coventry asked, his brow raised in question, and a smirk curving the corners of his mouth upward.

“Can I trouble you for the use of your carriage?” Sin rumbled.

He didn’t wait for an answer but stepped around the earl toward the back door of the warehouse. It was best if Sin didn’t encounter anyone else who might disparage Lady Patience or her family—for the slim strand of control he held would surely snap.