Amelia would understand. She was a smart girl. Hadn’t he spent the last week coming to the realization that she was far more intelligent than he’d thought? She was practical, too. Capable of getting things done.

He liked that about her.

Surely she saw that it was in her best interest to marry the Duke of Wyndham, whoever he might be. It was what had been planned. For her and for the dukedom.

And it wasn’t as if she loved him.

Someone gave a shout—it sounded like the captain—and the young boy dropped his knots and scrambled away, leaving himself and Amelia quite alone on deck. He waited a moment, giving her the chance to leave, if she did not wish to risk being trapped into conversation with him. But she did not move, and so he walked toward her, offering her a deferential nod when he reached her side.

“Lady Amelia.”

She looked up, and then down. “Your grace.”

“May I join you?”

“Of course.” She moved to the side, as far as she could while still remaining on the bench. “Grace had to go below.”

“The dowager?”

Amelia nodded. “She wished for Grace to fan her.”

Thomas could not imagine that the thick, heavy air belowdeck would be improved by pushing it about with a fan, but then again, he doubted his grandmother cared. She was most likely looking for someone to complain to. Or complain about.

“I should have accompanied her,” Amelia said, not quite ruefully. “It would have been the kind thing to do, but…” She exhaled and shook her head. “I just couldn’t.”

Thomas waited for a moment, in case she wished to say anything more. She did not, which meant that he had no further excuse for his own silence.

“I came to apologize,” he said. The words felt stiff on his tongue. He was not used to apologizing. He was not used to behaving in a manner that required apology.

She turned, her eyes finding his with startling directness. “For what?”

What a question. He had not expected her to force him to lay it out. “For what happened back at Belgrave,” he said, hoping he would not have to go into more detail. There were certain memories one did not wish to keep in clarity. “It was not my intention to cause you distress.”

She looked out over the length of the ship. He saw her swallow, and there was something melancholy in the motion. Something pensive, but not quite wistful.

She looked too resigned to be wistful. And he hated that he’d had any part in doing that to her.

“I…am sorry,” he said, the words coming to him slowly. “I think that you might have been made to feel unwanted. It was not my intention. I would never wish you to feel that way.”