Page 9 of Earl of St. Seville

Coventry reclined in his seat, and his smile widened. “Welcome to the Wicked Earls’ Club.”

Sin barked a sharp laugh and immediately regretted it when his lip pulled, the wound likely reopening. “I did not come to London to join some club full of arrogant rakehells, Coventry.” And why would the earl be foolish enough to think that Sin would trust him after the previous night?

“Come now, my lord…or can we do away with formalities? St. Seville, is it not?”

“Sin, I am called Sin,” he grunted.

Coventry slapped his open palm against his desk and chuckled, obviously not noticing the tension lacing Sin’s neck and shoulders. “See, my good man, with a name like Sin, you are everything the Wicked Earls’ Club was established for.”

“I am not in London to meander about town carousing, drinking, and playing billiards, my lord.” Had the man deceived him with his letter offering his help? Had Sin been lured to London for ulterior motives? “I will remain in town only long enough to secure the funds needed for my family and my people. If you cannot help me, I will bid you ado and find someone who can.”

When Coventry remained silent, Sin pushed from his seat.

The earl held up his hand to halt Sin from leaving. “Sit down, Sin,” he hissed. “As I said, we have much to discuss, and from what your letter said, your estate on Brownsea doesn’t have much time.”

Sin crossed his arms over his chest, his coat clenched in his fist. The fabric would likely wrinkle, but he knew enough about garment care to press them out—that was if a servant at the Albany would allow him use of a press.

“Why did you contact me, and how did you know about my estate’s financial troubles?” Sin asked the question that had remained unanswered since he’d received Coventry’s letter weeks prior. “My family—and title—is not well-known. We, along with all the St. Seville people, live a quiet, peaceable life on the isle.”

Coventry studied Sin intently until the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and the earl once again gestured for Sin to sit.

When he did, the earl finally broke the silence that had shrouded the room. “Your father and I were once friends. I owe him a great debt.”

“And as a way of repayment, you lured me to London to have me accosted and beaten in a dark alley?” The accusation flew from Sin before he could stop himself. He hadn’t been certain until he saw his jacket slung across the back of the chair that Coventry had been the culprit. The earl already held an advantage over him there was little need to give him more information to hold over Sin’s head. “You—or this club—are not my purpose here…and likely the reason my father chose to leave town before my birth.”

“I am uncertain what you think the Wicked Earls’ Club is or what we do, but I can assure you, it is not your father’s group any longer.” Coventry steepled his fingers, and his brow furrowed in thought before he continued. “My men, every earl that belongs to this club, have been hand-chosen and found worthy of membership. Certainly, there are several lords who bask in the more illicit activities available to their station; however, I am dedicated to seeing that every earl under my watch is safe, and his family and estate cared for. Unfortunately, with money and title, these men are easily led astray and give in to their debauched urges.” The earl’s stare hardened on Sin. “That is not every lord, though. We have men who are much like you: responsible, dependable, and lacking in a certain, what shall I call it, arrogant nature.”

It didn’t escape Sin’s notice that Coventry had yet to answer his most pressing question. Even if his father had once been friends with Coventry, that did not explain how the earl came to know of his estate’s troubles. Nor did it mean that Sin should trust Coventry. His father was a good man, but his blindness to the evils of others had ultimately led to Sin’s financial troubles now.

“The Wicked Earls’ Club is a band of brothers. They help one another. Where one man is weak, another is strong.”

“And what of last night?” Sin countered. “Were you helping me?”

For the first time, Sin wondered if Desmond had been in on the scheme. He was an earl, after all. Had he been part of The Earls’ Guild with Sin’s father and Coventry? It made sense…yet made no sense at all. Desmond had been shocked to find him and hadn’t known who Sin was until he’d been told.

“I was testing you.” It was said with little inflection as if it were commonplace, and Sin should have expected nothing less. “You see—”

“And Desmond, was he part of everything?”

“Desmond?” Coventry betrayed his first sign of unease. He’d been told something he hadn’t known. “James Lane?”

“Yes, that Desmond. At least he said his name was James.” Sin scoffed. “He happened into the alley and scared off your man.”

“Desmond—and his ilk—are from the old generation.” Coventry rubbed his jaw. “You—and the men you passed on your way in—are the new. Desmond is a good man, but his eccentric bluestocking of a daughter preaches respectability, duty, honor, and such…which is all fine and good, and very admirable in my mind, but that is not always attainable with the young lot I oversee. One day, I hope all the lords of my club strive to think of duty and honor before their own needs. What did you tell Desmond?”

Sin didn’t approve of the way Coventry had described Desmond’s daughter; however, he hadn’t been long in her company to form his own opinion of her—on anything besides her beauty. “Nothing.”

“Are you certain?”

“What was I to say?” Sin sat forward and stared Coventry directly in the eyes. “Good eve, Lord Desmond. Thank you for the hand, mate. I am in London with the assistance of the Earl of Coventry to secure several pugilist matches with large purse prizes to save my title and estate from ruin. You wouldn’t happen to know of any boxing matches in the near future, would you?” Sin snorted. “I did as any man attempting to keep his true situation from becoming idle gossip around London would do, I accepted Desmond’s help and fled out a window of his townhouse in nothing but my breeches and Hessians when he went to fetch a physician.”

“Very clever of you.” Coventry collected a stack of files from his desk and opened one, scanning whatever was inside.

Sin could not believe the man’s lack of concern. “I could have been gravely injured in the alley, or set upon by real thieves after your man left. What if I’d lost my way after departing Desmond’s? I could have been taken down by the cold night before finding my way back to the Albany.”

Coventry’s incredulous stare returned to Sin. “Well, let us be grateful that a few hours out in the elements of London did not bring you to your death because I was able to secure a meeting for you. Tonight.”

Sin wasn’t certain what he’d expected the earl to say, but that was not it. A sense of betrayal coursed through him when relief set in at the mention of a meeting. “This evening? Where?”