Earl 0f St. Seville (Wicked Earls' Club Book 11)

by Christina McKnight

  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.

  “Marsh Manor,” Valor shouted, thumping his fist on the side of the carriage. Without delay, the driver called to the horses, and they were off. “We are well aware Patience has little respect for society and what they deem proper; however, she does respect you, St. Seville—or do you prefer Sin?”

  “St. Seville suits adequately,” he grunted and waited for Valor to continue.

  “In all the years since our mother’s passing, Patience has never entered Southlund’s House. Yet, you, St. Seville, convinced her to go to a place she swore never to so much as set eyes on again. If that is not respect, I do not know what is.”

  “It is apparent that our sister cares for you, as well,” Merit admitted grudgingly. “Now we must decide what to do about that.”

  We? Did they think to stop him from seeing Patience?

  The men would have a hell of a time following through with that plan. Or perhaps they meant to forbid Patience from having anything to do with Sin.

  The carriage hit a bump in the street, sending the brothers colliding into one another. Sin, however, had been prepared for the rough travel and he kept his seat. Streetlamps shone through the glass of the windows, signaling that they’d traveled far enough from Seven Dials to slow their speed.

  “Tell me, St. Seville, how did you convince Patience to return to Southlund’s?”

  “It was she who offered to train me after seeing how deplorably I lost my first prizefight.”

  Valor drew back. “You expect us to believe that?”

  “She was helping me,” Sin confessed, turning his palms up. He had nothing to hide. Valor and Merit would hear it all eventually. “I am in London to save my family from ruin. Our coffers are empty, and my estate and people are suffering. If I do not win, I will have nothing to return home with. My land will lay fallow, and my people will starve. That is the reason Patience offered to help me.”

  The men looked at one another, some silent communication passing between them before they turned back to Sin with matching grins.

  “You care for Patience?” Valor demanded. “More than using her to win enough funds to run off back to your estate?”

  Sin nodded. “Without a doubt.”

  “And what do you plan to say to our sister if you are allowed to see her again?” Merit continued.

  Sin hadn’t thought through what he was going to say. He’d foolishly believed that if Patience agreed to see him—and Desmond allowed him into their home—the words would come.

  His shoulders sagged. “I will tell her exactly how I feel about her…everything, including my plans to remain in London as long as possible to be near her. It is where she belongs, among those who know and love her.” If their time at Southlund’s House had taught Sin anything, it was that leaving London—and Patience behind—would rip his heart wide open.

  “We can get you into the house,” Merit said

  “After that, it is up to you,” Valor finished.

  * * *

  If Patience’s brothers had warned Sin that their grand plan included sneaking him in through the back gardens and instructing him to scale the townhouse wall to the window Merit would prop open for him to enter, he would have told them to save their breaths. Instead, Sin listened intently as Coventry’s carriage stopped in the mews behind Marsh Manor.

  Sin glanced at the window, pleased to see that the light drizzle that had started earlier had stopped. He would not have to face the harrowing rose bushes with their pointed thorns and the slick siding of the house as he climbed—and fear losing his grip and falling into the waiting bushes.

  Merit pointed up at the house, candles lighting several windows on both the main level and the second story. “My window is that one—“

  “I know which is yours,” Sin said, cutting off the man before realizing his folly.

  “How, exactly, do you know which one is my room?” Merit asked, as serious as an inquisitor as he turned to face Sin.

  Sin debated how much to share, but decided it could only serve to strengthen this support if they heard the truth of his first meeting with Patience. “During my first fortnight in London, your father happened upon me in an alley where I’d been set upon by a thief.” There was little reason to share that Coventry had arranged the entire episode, for it would only lead to questions he didn’t have time to answer. “He rescued me and brought me here to be seen to by your family physician.”

  “You did not answer my question…”

  Sin had to admire the man’s perceptiveness. “Desmond had me wait in your room. I had no intention of allowing the good doctor to examine me and so, after being caught by Patience, I escaped out your window and down into the gardens…narrowly missing those wild rose bushes.”

  “She caught you how—”

  “You did what—”

  Both Merit and Valor spoke at the same time, and Sin chuckled at their comical expressions. Valor, ever the eldest, was affronted, while Merit’s eyes widened with utter shock.

  “How is this the first time we are hearing of this?” Valor demanded.

  “It is not a situation that needs to be discussed for fear of being overheard.” Merit shoved at his brother and gestured at the window and Coventry’s driver above. “We can discuss this later, perhaps in private. Mayhap you can invite us to your club, St. Seville.”

  “My club?” Whatever did the men speak of? Sin no more had a club than he did coins to plant crops on Brownsea.

  “You know…” Merit nodded at Sin’s jacket. “The Wicked Earls’ Club.”

  “I cannot—”

  “Come now, my lord,” Valor prodded. “As soon as I inherit the Desmond earldom, I will petition Coventry for membership. But until then…”

  “I meant I am not part of Coventry’s group,” Sin sighed. “The earl is a friend, was a friend of my father’s. He is helping me while I’m in London.”

  Valor rolled his eyes, and Merit stared expectantly.

  “I am sorry I cannot be of help.” Sin turned to glance out the window as one of the lights on the second floor extinguished. “I think it is best we hurry before Lady Patience retires to her bed.”

  “Of course.” Valor pulled the latch, and the door opened. “We will drive round to the front and hurry up to Merit’s chambers to open the window for you.”

  Sin nodded and stepped out of the carriage, his boots landing in a puddle of mud from the recent rain. Glancing up, he saw that the clouds were pulling away, and the moon shone through, lighting the path in front of him. The last time he’d been in the Desmond gardens, the night had been pitch black.

  “Good luck, St. Seville,” Valor called as the carriage started down the alleyway and out of sight.

  Sin would need more than mere luck to convince Patience to hear what he had to say. She was justified in despising him. He’d deceived her and had prayed his lies would remain hidden until he fled London…like a coward.

  Pulling the collar on his coat up to block the breeze from touching his exposed neck, Sin ducked his head and started for Lady Patience’s townhouse and the climb that would either see him injured in the rose bushes or standing before a woman he had no right to care about.

  The climb down had been simple enough as he’d found foot and handholds readily enough, but going up, after his hours of fighting, seemed daunting and risky.

  Lady Patience was worth the risk, though. If she forgave him, he would use the purse prize he’d won in Seven Dials to keep his people provided for until spring came and then he’d find another way—something besides pugilism—to bring his estate a
nd people back from ruin.

  The mud sloshed under his boots, and a single cloud drifted over the moon, momentarily darkening the garden before him.

  The house wasn’t far away, but it seemed, no matter how fast he walked, he’d never reach it—or Patience. Were she and Desmond still arguing? Was she preparing for bed? Had she already slipped beneath the covers, her eyes heavy with tears?

  Sin exited the muddy path that wound through the garden’s shrubbery to the expanse of lawn that separated him from the townhouse beyond.

  His steps faltered when he caught sight of a lone figure in the middle of an open area.

  A woman.

  It was far too late for a servant to be about the gardens, and the temperatures were plummeting as morning approached.

  His heart knew the woman before his mind did.

  Her face was turned toward the night sky, and as the clouds moved, revealing the moon once more, the twinkling twilight rained down on her. Her dark brown hair, still tied back at the base of her neck, shimmered. Her lithe body shook, and Sin realized Patience was sobbing. Not loud, wailing bursts of anguish but soft gut-wrenching weeping.

  And it was all because of him.

  He drew closer but remained quiet. He was intruding on a private moment, something he wasn’t supposed to witness. Yet Sin would rather cast himself from the rocky cliffs of Brownsea Island and into the roaring, twisting, churning ocean below than take his eyes off Patience.

  There was a startling beauty there despite her anguish.

  Not her pain, never that, but in the way the hurt seeped from her as she cried, almost as if it left her and escaped into the night. He wanted to ask her the secret to letting it all go, to accepting the things you had no power over and moving forward.

  He had no doubt that that was exactly what she was doing out in the garden all alone.

  She was letting go of the past—her past. Her mother’s illness, her father’s despair, and her own desperate need to right all of society’s wrongs.

  Patience had needed this solitary moment, while Sin had misguidedly thought to right all his family’s trouble alone—yet, he’d needed help. Her help.

  Slowly, her shoulders straightened, and her chin lowered, and her tear-streaked face came into view. Her eyes were squeezed tight. To keep out the few wayward raindrops or to hold tight to whatever her mind’s eye saw behind her lids, Sin didn’t know.

  He did know that he wanted to be there with her…to help her as she’d done for him.

  To make right his part of the pain he’d caused.

  She sighed—long and deep—and Sin’s heart fractured into a thousand pieces.

  How had he ever thought he could survive without her, leave her and London behind…that ever a day existed he could forget a woman such as Lady Patience Lane?

  Chapter 18

  Patience breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, begging the ache in her chest to subside; however, it persisted. Would likely stay for some time, much like those endless months following her mother’s passing. Perhaps the ache would never fully disappear, and the piece of her heart that hadn’t left this life with her mother would remain with Sin wherever he journeyed.

  The tragic part was that he’d never even know what he’d taken from her.

  No, not taken.

  She had freely given a portion of herself to him, foolishly thinking he’d nurture and cherish it. She’d outgrown the notion everyone wanted to—or could—be saved, despite her best intentions. If anything, her time in society had taught her that. But she’d allowed her guard to fall.

  And this was her punishment.

  How could she truly believe she’d given him a portion of herself and yet, never had their lips touched? And now their time together had ended without so much as even a chaste kiss.

  It was time she faced it head-on, dealt with her father’s disappointment, made amends with her siblings and decided what direction her life would take in the coming years. Would she move to her family’s country estate and withdraw from society altogether? Could she live a content life without having a cause to champion? Maybe it was long past time she learned.

  Patience would not miss London, certainly not; however, she would mourn the distance between herself and her family. Would they visit during the holidays or invite her to return to town to spend the Christmastide celebration with them?

  What was the deep of winter like on the island of Brownsea? Did the tides rise? Was the land shrouded by the same gray darkness as London? Did they dine on fish instead of duck and pheasant? Were their soups heavy with crustaceans and fresh vegetables?

  Was the crisp breeze from the sea preferable to the coal-tainted air in town?

  All things Patience would never know and would be best to keep from dwelling on.

  Once she opened her eyes and returned to the house, her moment of mourning would be at an end. Dwelling on something one could not change was a waste of time, though it had taken Patience five long years to realize that fact.

  The cold breeze licked at her cheeks, and her nose tingled.

  The night grew late, and Patience needed to return inside before the chill settled in her. With any luck, her father would have retired to his private chambers or locked himself away in his study, and she could slip through the house unnoticed. In the morning, she would throw herself at his mercy. No matter what it took, Patience would make things right with her father…she would make it right for everyone. Perhaps she owed Lord Holstrom and his wife an apology, as well as the other gentlemen of the ton she’d harassed over the years.

  But not tonight—now, she would retire, though sleep would certainly not drag her down into its inky depths and banish her misdeeds.

  Patience hesitantly opened her eyes, the dim night almost too bright after the darkness behind her lids. The sting was a welcome distraction from the emptiness that echoed inside her.

  Too quickly, the pain subsided, and her vision focused.

  She wasn’t alone in the garden.

  “Sin?” Her hushed tone barely traveled farther than her parted lips. “What are you doing here?”

  The sight of him, still raw and ravaged from his fight, burned into her memory. She’d never thought to see him again, had never dreamed he’d come to her. Or that her heart would soar at the sight of him, even in his ragged condition.

  He was before her in the blink of an eye, and he swept her into his arms—his powerful, comforting embrace—pulling her body against his. Every muscle in his chest and abdomen pressed solidly against her softer flesh as if no barrier lay between them.

  Caution prickled within her. “You are injured, Sin. Did the physician examine your hands before you left Seven Dials? I can summon Dr.—”

  “Shhhh.” His breath fogged between them. “Do not worry about me. It is you who is hurt, and I am the cause.”

  Her stomach fluttered at his words, the emptiness within her suddenly filling as if it had never been as his lips stopped a hairsbreadth from hers. Only a mere tilt of her head and their mouths would meet. Desire pooled at her core, urging her to move and bring them together, but she hesitated when he spoke once more.

  “I never meant to cause you pain, Patience,” he confessed, his brown eyes locking on hers in the night. “However, I allowed my own needs to preclude everything else.” He shook his head, their bodies breaking apart. “No, I will not make excuses for my deplorable behavior and cowardly actions.”

  Cowardly? Sin was the furthest thing from that.

  “Do not say such things,” Patience said, her hand finding his and squeezing it gently. His knuckles likely ached. “You are devoted to saving your family, that is a far more worthy cause than my irrational belief that I could end a sport my mother loved. I was trying to change my past, which makes no sense, while you…you were attempting to make a better future for yourself and so many others.”

  “You cannot say that all you do is for the past,” he countered.

  “Yes, I can, and no matter what I
do, I cannot bring her back. I am only pushing those who love me away.” She shook her head, remembering the look of utter disbelief and injury on her father’s face. “I was—am—selfish.”

  Her voice trembled, and Patience hated herself for it.

  She was the coward. She was the one who couldn’t accept her past and move on.

  “I gave you no option but to lie,” she sighed, focusing her stare on the ground between them. “I foolishly believed that my need to educate fighters about pugilism was a worthier pursuit than your mission to save your family and estate. You must think me a silly half-wit.”

  “No.” He pulled his hand free from hers, and Patience wilted. “I think you are brave and overcome with compassion. Not many women would face the wrath and scorn of society for any cause, let alone for a sport so vastly popular.”

  “But I persuaded you to agree to my terms.”

  “I willingly agreed to your terms merely to keep seeing you,” Sin confessed. “Do not think you put me at a disadvantage. Besides, I broke at least two of them, and you have not collected on the third.”

  Patience’s brow furrowed as she thought back to her demands. The first was that he would listen and heed her advice. Sin had certainly broken that rule. He would win his freedom from Holstrom, and they would work together to find a solution that did not end with Sin suffering head injuries. While he’d voiced his agreement for future matches, Sin hadn’t fought any yet. But it would be selfish of her, once again, to beg him to abstain from prizefighting.

  The third…the meaning behind his name.

  “Sin,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “My younger sister, Juliette, could not say Sinclair as a babe. Sinbar…Sintar…Sincar. After months of corrections, she settled on Sin.”

  “It was not because of your devilishly handsome good looks?” Patience teased.

  “You think I am handsome?” he retorted, his eye widening in mock surprise.