As his stomach spasmed, threatening bile at the back of his throat, he fought to keep his face still. He’d been sleeping with not just a criminal and pirate, but a murderer. He’d disobeyed orders. He’d developed feelings for her. Troublesome feelings.

His traitorous body had led him on this course. He should have listened to his head, to the Navy and their black and white reports. Lords, even Mercia had warned him. Don’t let her charms distract you from your duty.

It was a wretched day when the Duke of Mercia proved to have better insight than he’d displayed.

He should have known.

But, no, he’d caved to his feelings, believing it safe, and this is what it had brought him. He’d let emotion cloud his already poor judgement. His damn gut had led him so very wrong.

Hadn’t he known he was broken? Of course, the woman he’d developed feelings for would turn out to be the one who’d murdered his former betrothed! It was as if the gods conspired to prove to him just how little he could trust himself.

He shook his head. Nothing could feel so right and actually be right. He always trusted the wrong people—Father, Mercia, Vice.

And most of all, himself.

He should have known.

Fingers twitching against the wrapped book and earring, making the brown paper scrunch, he drew a long, ragged breath. “I need to …”

“Yes,” she said, voice colder than a January wind in Albion.

But his feet didn’t carry him to the door. Surely, she had to feel something. His eyebrows rose, asking her. Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe he’d misunderstood. Maybe there was an explanation.

Vee wouldn’t kill an innocent. Surely.

Her jaw knotted, and she swallowed, throat constricting a long while as if the action was difficult. She drew a quick breath.

Here it was—the explanation. The justification. Maybe it had been an accident, or she’d had no choice or Avice had attacked her or—

“What’s that?” Eyes narrow, she nodded at the brown paper parcel in his hand.

“Don’t you—”

Her eyebrows rose, the look almost bored.

His heart roared in his ears, pulse heavy. “You killed an innocent girl.”

She exhaled through her nose, a parent losing patience with an irritating child. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

He stared at her, waiting, waiting, waiting.

But she gave no explanation, no defence, no side of the story that showed why she was Vee, the heroic Pirate Queen, and not the villain the Navy had sent him to hunt.

Throat so tight he could have choked, he swallowed and straightened his back. Every inch of steel clapped back into place, cladding against feeling, against acting on it, against her.

Face smooth as a death mask, he lifted his chin. “Just something I picked up in Nassau.”