Page 24 of Earl of St. Seville

She had to occupy her mind with thoughts of his injuries. The alternative was the anger, hurt, and betrayal already there. Her emotions were illogical and suspect. She knew this, but was still unable to stop them from coursing through her.

“Home,” Patience called to her driver when she and St. Seville finally made it to the carriage. The streets around the square, only moments before jammed with people, horses, and carriages, were now clear as the spectators moved along.

“No.” St. Seville halted, turning to her. “I can find my own way back to the Albany.”

“You are hurt.” Bloody hell, Patience shouldn’t care that he was injured. It had been his own foolishness that had led them to this point. “It is after dark, and the air is growing chilled with night. But if you prefer to hang on to your pride, I can leave you here in the coming cold. Perhaps you will find your own way home, or…your injuries may be more profound than you realize, and they will hinder you quicker than the elements.”

Patience shrugged when Sin glanced at her waiting carriage and her driver. It was his decision—as it had been her mother’s all those years ago. She could not force help upon those who did not want it. “Mayhap Holstrom will show mercy on you if there is a bit more blood coming from your lip and nose.”

Sin exhaled, and his gaze softened.

“At least allow me to see you back to the Albany,” Patience prodded.

Her driver held out Sin’s shirt and coat, and the earl quickly slid them on, officially transforming himself from Sin—the pugilist—to the Earl of St. Seville. His split lip, quickly bruising eye, and the spot of blood near his ear were the only lingering remnants of the fighter Patience had witnessed for the first time just moments before.

Reluctantly, he acquiesced and followed her into the carriage.

They both took the same seats as earlier in the evening when she’d caught him outside the Albany—on his way to fight. Yet, before her was not the man she’d come face-to-face with in her brother’s room a few nights prior. Nor was he the lord who’d championed her against Holstrom at the soiree.

Though neither was he the fighter she’d witnessed at Bedford Square. Her fury dissipated.

Could the Earl of St. Seville—Sin—be all of those things yet none of them at all?

Were there additional complexities to him that Patience had yet to learn?

They both remained silent as the carriage hurried through the dark London streets toward the Albany. Patience had too many questions milling about in her mind, the answers to which may or may not wound her more than watching helplessly as Sin’s opponent pummeled him.

Could Patience wait feebly in the crowd as the Earl of St. Seville—or any other fighter—risked his life at this violent sport?

Chapter 8

Sin couldn’t bring himself to look at Lady Patience during their short ride back to the Albany. There’d been nothing to gain by withholding information from her—nor anything to lose. They owed one another nothing…not even honesty. However, he’d deceived her all the same. His attempt to save her from the hurt and pain that would come if she learned of his destination had failed. Miserably.

Perhaps his mistake had been thinking he could honor his promise to his family and not hurt anyone in the process. Never had his plans included meeting a woman such as Lady Patience. Hearing her heartbreaking tale and then embarking on the exact path that would bring it all back to her.

He longed to apologize. He should apologize.

His course in London could not be altered for a woman who would soon be out of his life. He was in town to secure the money needed to save his family.

Sin had every intention of fighting again.

Desperation and shame brought a sheen of sweat to his palms.

It was no longer all about saving his family. Now, he owed Holstrom, who’d lost a great deal of money when Povolti had struck Sin down. He could not return to Brownsea Island more heavily indebted than when he left. It was unthinkable.

Lady Patience wouldn’t understand. She was the daughter of a wealthy earl, not the heir to an impoverished estate with too many dependents to number. If he failed, it would mean that his mother and sister would suffer, and his people would either starve or be forced to find another place to call home. All to appease a woman who would likely never want for anything in her life.

He could sense her stare on him, and again, he had the urge to beg for her forgiveness. It would be an empty outpouring on his part, though. Sin had been a fool to think he alone could save his family. His father, despite his best efforts, hadn’t possessed the gumption to lift his destitute estate from the shambles he’d created for them—why did Sin think he could do any better?

“Sin,” Patience whispered into the silence that had overtaken them. “Is that what you prefer to be called?”

There was no warmth in her voice, no sense of familiarity, and he knew he deserved any tongue-lashing that might come his way. If nothing else, at least for his betrayal of her most private pain. The loss of her mother had wounded her deeply, and Sin had listened to her anguish, yet it hadn’t stopped him from pursuing his course of action. She’d shared a piece of herself with him…and only him. It didn’t matter that they were little more than strangers, her confession had bound them together in a way he’d never known with another.

“It is what my family—and my close friends—call me.” Suddenly, he desperately wanted her to call him by the name, as well.

“It fits you,” she sighed.

His eyes snapped to hers in the dimly lit carriage, and the chill that had overtaken him after the rush from the fight fled. He wanted to demand that she continue. “How does it fit me,” he longed to ask, but the carriage had halted, and she drew back the material keeping them from view. He should call to the driver and ask him to continue on, take them to Bedford Square and back again in hopes that she’d continue talking. Despite her bluster and bravado, there was much to Patience that Sin had yet to discover. Namely, why he felt the overwhelming need to please her despite their short acquaintance.