Page 52 of Earl of St. Seville

Their mirrored glowers and crossed arms did nothing to clear Sin’s fogging mind, even as his thoughts swirled around, demanding the driver to deliver him to the Earl of Desmond’s townhouse with the haste of a thousand wild horses.

Certainly, most men would be concerned when faced by two adversaries whose menacing glares in no way promised friendship. However, not even both men combined could equal Sin’s weight, and even with his injuries from the prizefight, he was certain the two men would not prove a threat to him. If they thought to attack him and take his prize purse, they would have done it before entering the carriage.

The minutes had ticked by as their hostile, almost ferocious, stares hadn’t diminished in the least.

However, the pain of his injuries—had he broken his hand or suffered bruising to his back?—had cleared his mind and brought an acute awareness to his surroundings—and his need to quicken his journey across London.

Each time Sin called to the driver to make haste, one or both of the men shouted for the driver to remain halted. The bolder of the two kept his hand on the carriage door latch, daring Sin to make a move to exit.

Sin chuckled. If the men wanted a fight, Sin had enough pent-up aggressive growing inside him to take on the men without a second thought. If they were here to pinch his winnings and make off into the night, then he wished they’d get on with their business and leave him to his next task.

“May I help you, gentlemen?” he asked, his voice level and even, his gaze moving from one man to the other. They appeared vaguely familiar, and Sin wondered if they’d passed in the halls of the Albany or perhaps they were members of Coventry’s exclusive club. Their lapels were devoid of a golden W, which dispelled the notion that they were aligned with the Wicked Earls’ Club. “Are you here for something, or are you simply in need of transport back to London proper?”

“What is your business with Lady Patience Lane?” It was the man holding the door closed, preventing Sin from departing, who spoke. In proper lighting, the pair would be hard to tell apart, and without a proper introduction, Sin could only note the lines on the man’s face to indicate that he was the elder of the two men.

“That is none of your concern,” Sin retorted. If they were simply more men thinking to warn him away from Patience, they’d picked the wrong day to issue their cautionary stories. And if either thought to disparage the woman’s name, they would see the same fate as Holstrom had. “If you will excuse me—”

“I would have to say it is exactly our concern, my lord.” This came from the younger man. Sin quickly realized why the men appeared familiar, though he was confident that they’d never met. “You will answer my brother’s question. Now.”

Knowing the men were not present to cause him serious harm should have eased Sin, but it only served to fill him with guilt over what Patience was suffering through. These men were her family—her brothers, if Sin weren’t mistaken. If anyone deserved to know Sin’s intentions with Lady Patience, it was the gentlemen sitting across from him.

“My business with Lady Patience isn’t about business at all.” It was the truth. Never had Sin thought of Patience in a business sense. He hadn’t met her with any nefarious notions in mind; in fact, he’d wondered at her intentions when she stumbled upon him that night in her home. “We met not long ago, and it doesn’t pain me to admit…I care for her greatly.”

“And yet you do the one thing that will crush her feelings?” the younger man scoffed.

However, the tension drained from the man next to him. “I am Valor, and this is Merit.”

“Patience’s brothers,” Sin continued for them.

Merit, the young brother, asked, “Is it so obvious?”

“Dark complexion, dark hair, and eyes that change from blue to grey with your mood and the lighting—no, the resemblance isn’t obvious at all.”

“You left the fight in a bit of a rush,” Valor continued, re-crossing his arms as if remembering why he’d waylaid Sin’s coach. “Where are you headed?”

“Most likely the same place you are,” Sin offered, crossing his own arms and pegging the men with his coolest stare.

“Do not think to know where we are headed, my lord,” Merit threw back. Of the pair, Sin thought Patience was much like this young man: fiery and passionate with a healthy dose of indignation.

“I planned to go to your townhouse and beg Patience to see me.”

“Did you not hear our father?” Valor retorted. “You have been banned from both Southlund’s House and Marsh Manor.”

“And if I do not heed Desmond’s words?” Sin asked, lifting his chin to stare down at the men. “Will the pair of you attempt to stop me?”

“Depends,” Merit offered, but he’d relaxed ever so slightly since he entered the coach and sat across from Sin.

“On…?”

“Whether you mean to cause Patience more hurt,” Valor said. “We do not take kindly to anyone harming our sister, as I’m sure you can understand.”

“I do,” Sin agreed. “However, I can assure you, I never meant to hurt Patience in the first place.”

“Be that as it may,”—Merit pushed up straight in his seat—“you did cause her grief. So acutely she made a spectacle of herself before half of London. What about her reputation? Do you think she will ever find a suitable man to wed now?”

It was Sin’s turn to scoff at the question. “Patience doesn’t care what society thinks of her, and marriage is not high on her list of priorities.” When both men returned to their menacing stares, Sin continued, “Is it possible I know your sister and her wishes better than the pair of you?”

He glanced between the brothers, a measure of satisfaction settling over him. Let them speak against his words, all three of them knew Sin was correct.