FitzRoy couldn’t know that—he was just digging for information. It was a guess. If he knew, he wouldn’t have been able to keep his possessiveness in check. He wouldn’t have attacked Knigh as he had Aedan, but he’d have said something or betrayed his envy. He was not a man who had mastery over his emotions.

Shaking his head, FitzRoy scoffed. “Of course I knew. Did you think the pair of you were subtle? Ha! Did you think you could even be subtle about that on a ship? Why do you think the Admiralty won’t let you see her?”

Straightening, Knigh turned and strode to the fireplace, blood seething in his veins, forcing movement. He leant on the mantlepiece, back to FitzRoy so he wouldn’t see the frown so tight on his brow it ached. The bastard knew the whole time.

And he’d told the Admiralty. They hadn’t summoned Knigh yet, so his career might not be ruined, but this would be a mark against him. If he was lucky, they’d put it down to a man’s loneliness at sea—just the needs of the flesh, nothing involving feeling.

“Poor boy,” FitzRoy went on, “only now realising he’s come here to push his own guilt on me.” His laugh rang through the room, through Knigh’s chest.

“Don’t you”—but he couldn’t finish the sentence.

Heat sparked in his veins, and he turned, covering the distance between him and FitzRoy in a few paces. Chest heaving, he managed to stop toe-to-toe with him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Keep control. 

Deep breaths.

FitzRoy didn’t back off. A smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth, and his eyes glinted. “Don’t I? You see, you’ve come here and made these accusations about how I should feel. About what I owed her. About how she trusted me. But I think you’re really talking about yourself.”

Fists balled so tightly they popped, Knigh’s body burned with tension, with the threat of white rage. “No.”

A cruel smile took over FitzRoy’s face. “Oh yes. You’ve just come here to make yourself feel better, to soothe the guilt keeping you awake at night. To tell yourself you owed her nothing. To reassure yourself that she didn’t trust you.” His eyes narrowed. “What I can’t work out is why you went through with it in the end.”

Knigh tore his gaze away from FitzRoy’s. The bastard. How had he managed to turn this back on him?

Something red glinted on the front of his shirt, below the gleam of pearls. The scoundrel was wearing Lady Avice’s pin. He must have taken it from Vice. Well, he didn’t deserve it any more than she did. It had been a sign of loyalty for Lady Avice, and FitzRoy wasn’t capable of that. It belonged with her family.