Page 38 of Earl of St. Seville

It all happened around them, yet Sin, with Lady Patience by his side, was not a part of it all.

Her tense shoulders and clutched hands told him that she wanted to say something—and it was gravely important to her. It was the same with his younger sister Juliette when she’d gathered the courage to come to Sin’s study at Brownsea to ask for permission to attend the village’s annual Christmastide rout. She’d been only fifteen and still in the schoolroom at the time; however, Sin had not been able to deny her anything.

As he suspected, he would be unable to deny lady Patience her every request now.

He only prayed she did not mean to end their training sessions.

In the last few days, Sin had been so captured and enthralled during his time at Southlund’s House with Patience, that he’d been able to cast from his mind all the secrets he held—and the lies to come. During their hours of training, he’d only wanted to please her, to show her his progress, and to see Patience’s smirk of accomplishment at her successful tutelage.

“My lord,” she mumbled, watching a cart rumble past. “May I be so bold as to inquire about your plans for the rest of the day?”

His patience had paid off—tenfold—and Sin was quick to suppress his smile and ignore the way his stomach leapt with joy at just the sight of her. “You may.”

“There is place I’d like to take you.” She glanced at her waiting carriage, but Sin noted that her driver had yet to see that his mistress had exited the club, and so they remained unnoticed. Even the passing carriages on the street and the people on the walk paid them no mind. “I have not been in many years; however, it is still a location innately tied to my mother’s world.”

Sin knew how difficult it had been for Patience to enter Southlund’s House again after her mother’s death. Why would she punish herself again…for him?

“I have naught on my mind but finding my bed at the Albany, my lady.”

Her gaze shifted to meet his. “I have pushed you hard.”

Was that regret in her tone?

“No harder than was necessary, I assure you,” he replied. Every muscle in his body ached, though Patience moved with the lithe grace of a woman who trained every day. “Please, tell me more about where we are going.”

“Only if you allow me use of your hack.” She nodded toward his waiting driver—not his driver, but a man paid each day to deliver him between the Albany, Southlund’s House, and occasionally, the Wicked Earls’ Club. “I fear my driver has been very obliging of late, but where I plan to take you today would give him—and my father—apoplexy for certain.”

“Perhaps that is a reason we should not go.” He tested her resolve. Though she had offered to train him, Sin couldn’t help but fear that he’d asked a lot of her during their short acquaintance, and this might very well be too much for her to undertake. “Are you certain it is safe?”

Safe for your heart, he wanted to add.

Her physical safety was not in jeopardy, not when Sin was near. Just as he would do for his mother and sister, he would protect Lady Patience with his life if the situation demanded it.

He could not protect her from herself, however.

“Are you one to shy away from things because of how others will react?”

If her question had been a fist, Sin would have been knocked to the ground and left dazed and confused. It was something they had in common—neither held back due to how others might perceive them.

“Never, my lady.” Sin hadn’t paused to dwell on how his leaving Brownsea might affect his family, only what they all would gain from him going. Patience hadn’t let the negative impact among society stop her crusade to educate others on the harmful consequences of pugilism. In this, they were much alike. “My hired hack is at your disposal.”

Sin bowed and gestured toward his waiting conveyance.

With a mischievous grin, Patience nodded in return before slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow.

“Let us be off,” she announced, her inflection matching that of her father’s the day he’d rescued Sin from the alley close to Covent Gardens.

Sin could not help but note the rough, unpadded seat and filth that clung to the open hack as he took his seat across from Patience. This was not the mode of transportation the daughter of an earl should be relegated to. She deserved to move around town in an exquisitely adorned landau with velvet benches, a pan of hot coals at her feet, and brocade drapes covering the glass windowpanes. A finely attired driver at the reins with a competent footman near the boot should escort her to and fro her many societal entertainments.

“Where ta, m’lord?” the hack driver called, turning a toothy grin in their direction.

Sin swallowed the inadequacy that threatened to halt him before they’d even departed Southlund’s House.

“Lyceum in the Strand, sir,” Patience instructed.

“The Strand?” The driver focused on Sin, his brows raised high in question.

Sin looked between Patience and his driver.