For a change, she’d been invited, rather than having to sneak into such a ball, and, really, it would be a shame not to grab something small and valuable while she was here.

The question was, what?

She rubbed her fingertips together. Maybe something Perry would like? She circled back to the bookcase by the door—there had been a little silver model of a fiddle on one of the shelves, and Perry played hers so joyously …

Then again, if she were to sneak upstairs, she might find something more expensive, like a sapphire necklace.

“You don’t know what he’s like, George.”

Vice froze. Was that Knigh? And his voice raised? Mr Control only ever raised his voice to shout orders across deck.

Swallowing, she crept to the door.

“As if you really know what he’s like, Knigh,” a higher voice said, his brother’s. “If he’s that bad, tell me one thing he’s done.”

Who were they talking about? Vice narrowed her eyes, straining to listen.

There was a long pause.

“Just trust me on this,” Knigh growled. “You must get off his ship—gods, stay here, I’m sure the Grays will be pleased to have you for a few weeks while you wait for the next ship home.”

His ship? The Duke’s?

“Oh, must I? You’re not Father, you know. You can’t—”

“No, I’m not—I didn’t gamble and drink away our fortune. I didn’t get myself a mistress and a bastard son in Portsmouth. I didn’t die, leaving us destitute.” Knigh’s voice shook, and there was a soft sound of footsteps. “I had to clear all that up, and I risk my life every damn day to provide for you, so yes, I can tell you what to do. You are going home.”

“Poor Knigh. It looks like you have ever such a tough life with that pirate whore of yours.”

In the gaping silence, Vice pursed her lips. Funny how Knigh wasn’t the whore if George really thought they were sleeping together. The hypocritical little—

A smash echoed through the corridor. She gasped.

Eyes wide, she covered her mouth, heart pounding. Hopefully, they hadn’t heard. If Knigh realised she was listening to this, he’d be mortified. Much as she enjoyed mocking him, he didn’t deserve that—he’d helped her today.

“What’s the matter, Knigh?” His brother gave a short laugh. “Is she not spreading—”

“You dare complete that sentence, George.” Knigh’s voice was such a low growl, she barely heard it. Even through the door, she could feel the tension thickening the air.

“How about I leave you and your lover alone, and you leave me be?”

No response.

“Well, it’s been a pleasure speaking to you, brother,” George went on. “When I write to Isabel and Mama, I’ll be sure to pass on your warmest regards. Good evening, Knigh.”