Page 14 of Earl of St. Seville

Thankfully, no one asked Sin for his opinion.

“Before you go”—Lady Patience loosened the drawstring on her handbag and retrieved a folded note—“take this, please. Give it to Lord Holstrom. Certainly, he will listen to you.” She glanced past him, and her shoulders tensed. “It is past time I return to my father. Thank you again, my lord.”

He was left to watch her walk away, clutching the folded sheet of paper in his hand. He should be content that his meeting with Holstrom was no longer delayed…but he would not dwell on why he was overwhelmed with discontent as the distance between him and Lady Patience grew.

* * *

For the second time in one day, Sin found himself in an unfamiliar room, seated before a man he was unacquainted with. How many years had he lived on Brownsea Island—his entire twenty-eight summers—never meeting anyone new? Fifteen, twenty?

The room was sparse, furnished only with the necessities a man might need when working or sharing a drink with a comrade. Sin knew well enough he was no friend of Holstrom’s, which suited him perfectly. Besides the massive, finely constructed desk that resided between them—almost a way of showing Sin how superior Holstrom was to him—there were several chairs, a sideboard heavy with decanters, two shelves lined with ledgers, and a large, unlit hearth. The lack of a fire and the cold that hung in the room was likely another ploy Holstrom used to his advantage. Sin, little more than hired help, was not worthy of his host wasting money on heating the room.

Consequentially, there was little motivation for Sin to impress Lord Holstrom. The man had been reserved and quiet since Sin took the seat across from him. He wasn’t sorry for the way he’d spoken to Lady Patience; however, he at least had the good sense to be ashamed of what Sin had witnessed. It was a start for a man as powerful and wealthy as Holstrom. The day would come when Sin would be in a better position, and showing Lord Holstrom the error of his ways would not put Sin at a disadvantage. Until that day, he had to play by the man’s rules.

Sin needed Holstrom more than he needed Coventry.

That hadn’t seemed possible mere hours before.

“St. Seville, please take a seat,” Holstrom began, setting aside the letter he’d been reading when Sin entered the room. If he’d known he would be made to wait, Sin would have halted outside Holstrom’s study to retrieve the folded paper Lady Patience had given him. Instead, it remained in his jacket pocket for future perusal. He had no intention of handing it over to Holstrom or anyone else. “Lord Coventry has written me about your prowess with fists. However, I am inclined to take his writings of you with a grain of salt due to your”—he nodded at Sin’s split lip—“appearance.”

“Call me Sin,” he said, ignoring the man’s implication.

Holstrom’s eyes brightened at Sin’s childhood nickname. It was not as many thought. Sin had nothing to do with him committing any transgressions or any lack of moral character, it was simply easier for his younger sister, Juliette, to pronounce when she was a babe. Unfortunately, or fortunately in this case, the name had stuck. Many read greater meaning into the name, mainly because of Sin’s sheer size and privateer appearance. The dusting of hair on his cheeks and chin, in combination with his long locks, was enough to make most people think he was a swashbuckler and a tyrant of the sea.

“Sin.” Holstrom tapped his chin. “Sin. I think it suits, especially if you are the skilled pugilist I’ve been told.”

“I am.” There was no need to say anything further; the man could take Sin at his word or send him away.

“Why have our paths not crossed until now? I am acquainted with every pugilist worth their salt in all of England—and many from France and beyond.”

“This is my first time on the mainland, besides going into Dorset for provisions.” Sin despised appearing the uncultured man he actually was; however, there was no other explanation to give. His family had lived away from society since his birth. “My estate is on Brownsea Island.”

Holstrom sat forward in his chair. “How can you call yourself a prizefighter if your skill hasn’t been tested against that of other elite boxers?”

“I call myself nothing, my lord,” Sin retorted, reclining in his seat as if Holstrom’s opinion mattered not a whit. “I am an accomplished pugilist. You can arrange a match to gauge my proficiency, but I do not fight for free.”

Lord Holstrom laughed at that. “Unproven with an arrogance paralleling that of the great Gentleman Jackson. I cannot say my curiosity is not piqued; however, paying your way into a match and putting my coin on the line is much to ask without any proof that you can actually win.”

“Set up a match with a small purse prize,” Sin said with a shrug.

“What skilled pugilist would agree to a match worth virtually nothing?”

“I would suggest you advertise the fight as one that my opponent is certain to win.” Sin reclined farther, resting his entwined fingers at the nape of his neck and tilting his head back to gaze at the ceiling. “Or find another unknown fighter. Either way, I will be victorious, and then you will secure matches for the large prizes I have heard about from Lord Coventry.”

Holstrom scrutinized him across the expansive desk, and Sin understood why men of his status chose to meet in such rooms, with large distances separating them: Holstrom relished the power and control it gave him. Sin wasn’t as certain about Coventry. Sin never met with his steward or stable master with anything between them. They stood or sat as equals during all their meetings.

“Will Lady Patience be an obstacle to your success?” Lord Holstrom inquired.

“Of course not.”

“That is not what I witnessed in the hallway,” he countered.

“I would have spoken as I did if you’d been speaking with any member of the fairer sex, my lord.” Sin straightened in his seat as Holstrom scowled. “I also thought it in our best interest to not garner additional notice by Lady Patience if she did not suspect our involvement, though I would be foolish to think our association has escaped her notice after our meeting in the hall.”

“Discretion is key, especially where Desmond and his daughter are concerned.” Holstrom’s scowl faded as Sin’s actions became clear, or at least what Sin wanted the man to believe. “It is not wise to spark Lady Patience’s temper or suspicion, with her history and such.”

Besides the prizefights, this was the only topic of conversation that drew Sin’s interest.

Everyone seemed to speak around Lady Patience, instead of directly about her.