Page 34 of Earl of St. Seville

And she would do it all over again tomorrow…and with any luck, the next five days until Sin was called to Seven Dials. She would push him, demand he train hard before having some rest before the fight.

Her heart still raced with exhilaration. She’d been so preoccupied with it all that she’d utterly forgotten to inquire after his moniker—Sin.

“Good day, Lady Patience,” Donaldson, the Desmond butler greeted, holding the door open for her.

“Good day to you, too.” If the servant were taken aback by Patience’s jovial mood and appearance, he did not let on. “Wonderful day, is it not?”

“Of course, my lady.” He hesitated for a moment before closing the door. “Your father, along with Lord Valor and Mr. Merit Lane await you in the study.”

“Await me?” The bounce in her step faltered. She’d known her brothers were due to return to town any day, but why would they seek an audience with her immediately and not wait until supper? Or pester her in her room? Their mutual relationship was far less formal than being summoned to the study. “Whatever for?”

“I have not been apprised of that; however, I was instructed to send you directly to them when you arrived home.”

“Thank you.” Patience debated seeking out her chambers to change her gown before meeting with her father and brothers but decided against it. If something were amiss, Patience wanted to know with all due haste. And if she’d done something to garner their irritation or anger, their ire would only increase if she dawdled. Never the less, she was overjoyed to see her brothers, no matter the reasons for their impatience. “I will attend them straight away.”

“I will let the housekeeper know to bring tea,” the servant said with a smile.

Patience glanced in the hall mirror on the way to her father’s study, pausing to inspect her hair. Several long tendrils had worked their way free of the knot at the back of her neck and hung over her shoulders. Her skin glowed from physical activity, but beyond that, it was only her simple skirts and plain blouse that indicated that she’d been up to anything abnormal. Her father knew she had departed that morning to visit Southlund’s House. She had no reason to hide that fact, and if he asked, she’d inform him that she was instructing the Earl of St. Seville in the finer art of bare-knuckle boxing. Her driver and maid had accompanied her to the club, as was proper, though Patience need not share that she’d bidden her companion to await her in the carriage. Nothing untoward had occurred, at least not that morning at the club.

And her father had no knowledge of her whereabouts the previous night, but she was fairly certain he’d find fault and scandal in her visiting Sin’s private chambers at the Albany. But there was little chance he knew of that unless her driver had tattled on her.

Patience doubted that, as well. The servant would surely be fearful of losing his position if her father ever learned of the escapade, not that she ever wished to jeopardize someone’s position within her household. Allowing a lady to go gallivanting about town, entering a private men’s-only lodging house…the gossips would have fodder for years if they learned of Patience’s goings-on.

Thankfully, she’d reached a certain level among the ton where no one would pay her the slightest mind even if she arrived at the opera or Vauxhall in nothing but her underpinnings and stockings. Perhaps her standing as a societal outcast came in useful from time to time, as long as her known activities did not stray too far into scandalous territory.

Her footsteps made no sound as she traversed the hall to her father’s study.

She lifted her clenched fist—a tweak of pain from her morning’s sparring traveled through her fingers and into her hand—and knocked on the closed door.

“Enter,” her father called, his voice sounding far away, distracted. It wasn’t uncommon for him, and had truly become the norm since her mother’s death.

Present but not altogether there.

Alive but not living.

Hearing but not listening.

The Earl of Desmond, once a loving, nurturing father, could rarely be bothered to attend to his children. The change had been glaringly obvious directly after his wife’s passing; however, now, it was like he’d always been as such. Many times, Patience thought he only delivered her pamphlets to be out of her sight.

Patience entered the room to see her father in his usual place behind his desk and Merit and Valor taking up space on the two chaise lounges close to the hearth, leaving Patience to choose from the two straight-backed, hard-seated chairs before her father.

“Good day, Patience.” Her father didn’t bother to lift his stare from the papers on his desk. “Do take a seat.”

Patience glanced at her elder brothers, hoping one would take pity on her and allow her a place on a lounge, but neither would meet her stare as they remained silent. Her warm greeting died on her lips.

“I shall stan—”

“Sit.” Her father’s command echoed in the room, and both her brothers turned sideways glances at her. “There is something troubling I’d like to discuss with you.”

“With Merit and Valor present?” she squeaked, her bright mood fading quickly.

He sighed, finally bringing his head up to meet her stare. “After what I heard today, I am certain your brothers being present for this conversation is the least of your worries.”

His words held a hard edge that Patience hadn’t heard in years. She was torn between being excited that some semblance of her old father had returned and leery of what he’d heard and what he had to say. Nevertheless, when he gestured to the chair before him, Patience sank into it, the stiff, straight back biting into her shoulder blades.

“I received a very interesting correspondence this morning.”

“Oh,” Patience said. “I do hope it was interesting in a positive way.”