Page 12 of Earl of St. Seville

“The Earl of St. Seville?” The man must have nodded confirmation because Holstrom continued. “I was not expecting you for another hour. If you will follow me, we shall conduct our business in my study.”

Patience was not acquainted with St. Seville, but if he were meeting with Lord Holstrom it would be wise to properly introduce herself. From his greeting, Patience could have very well found an ally in her cause.

“After you apologize to this lady, I will see her back to the ballroom and only then will we discuss business,” the earl said, his tone returned to an acceptable level.

Patience turned to face her white knight. “That is not necess—”

But the words died on her lips.

“It—is—you.” Her embarrassment returned as she stuttered over every word. Patience took a deep breath, attempting to slow her erratic heartbeat at the sight of the brawny man who’d only the night before leapt from a window in her townhouse. It was he, yet he was different. His hair was tied back with a length of cord, dried blood no longer clung to his split lip, and the swelling about his face was not as bad as she’d feared. Perhaps the cold of the night had done him some good. The biggest change, what made her nearly not recognize him, was that he wore a white linen shirt, a cravat, and a jacket. She had to admit, she was a bit disappointed that he was not stripped bare to the waist. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he said. “I think it is very acceptable—and expected—that both of us attend a ball hosted by Lord Holstrom.”

Damnation. The man had a point.

He glanced over Patience’s head, which wasn’t difficult as she wasn’t even as tall as his shoulder, and glared at Holstrom. “I am certain you did not mean to insult Lady Patience, Holstrom, is that correct?”

How long had the man been listening to her conversation with Lord Holstrom? A fresh wave of panic and humiliation had her chest tightening at the same time her stomach churned. She didn’t know how those two sensations could happen simultaneously, but having a stranger listen to the sordid details of her past was too much to think on.

She continued to stare up at the Earl of St. Seville—she now knew his name—as Holstrom cleared his throat.

“My sincerest apologies, Lady Patience,” Holstrom muttered, sounding anything but apologetic. “St. Seville, I will see you in my study once you’ve returned the lady to the soirée.”

Neither Patience nor St. Seville paid Holstrom any mind as his retreating footfalls sounded.

Her neck ached from being tilted back at such a severe angle, though the other alternative was to stare directly at the man’s chest.

“The Earl of St. Seville?” she breathed, not sure why it came out as a question.

“Yes, Sinclair Chambers, at your service.” Neither looked away. “And you are Lord Desmond’s daughter, Lady Patience Lane.”

There was no question in his words.

Patience couldn’t stop her smile, remembering him clothed in nothing but his breeches while she stood frozen in her nightgown. Taking a step back, her slipper caught on the back of her long skirts.

His hand was at her elbow in a flash, steadying her once more.

Callused fingers clasped her bare upper arms, sending more unfamiliar sensations through her—was it need, desire, yearning?

“Thank you, my lord.” Suddenly, Patience needed space. Distance between her and St. Seville. Room between her and the clashing emotions coursing through her. Her anger at Holstrom had dissipated the moment the earl touched her. “I think I should return to the ballroom.”

“I will accompany you.” His stare searched hers in the dim hallway.

Did he experience the same unexpected emotion at their touch? Certainly not. He was a lord, an earl, a man not unlike those she’d encountered in society. Worldly men who did not hesitate a moment at physical contact.

“That is not nece—” Patience’s protest was for naught as the man held out his arm, and she laid her gloved hand at the crook of his elbow. Everything about the man caused her common sense to flee. “Er, thank you.”

He swept his hand at his shoulder, likely a nervous habit for a man with such long hair.

When they approached the ballroom, music streaming through the open doors, Patience’s pulse settled, and she hoped her cheeks did not remain flushed.

The music and conversation from the crowded room invaded Patience’s senses, and for a moment, she longed to return to the quiet hallway—and their moment of privacy. It was a ludicrous longing. The earl was here to meet with Holstrom, and that alone should have warned Patience away from the man. And that didn’t even bring into consideration their curious meeting the night before.

Despite all of it, Patience could not deny the need that’d coursed through her—as unfamiliar and unexpected as it was—when the Earl of St. Seville had merely touched her arm. Security, protection, and…salvation. Every emotion wrapped up in that one touch. A desire she hadn’t known she’d lacked all these years.

Chapter 4

Every eye in the room settled on them as Sin and Lady Patience stepped over the threshold and into the Holstrom ballroom. It was the exact scene he’d hoped to avoid—that Coventry said he could avoid. Arrive, meet with Holstrom, and depart.