Fitz physically recoiled as if struck. Indeed, he would have been less surprised if she had struck him. It certainly would have stung less. Plainly humour was no longer upon the table, and Fitz stiffened.

"I could have been murdered as well, if you'd have preferred," he returned coolly. "Or you may wash your hands of me—of us—if you find the situation so distasteful."

He knew, of course, that she would take the news badly, knew that he deserved it, but knowing and experiencing were two entirely different matters. Was it so much to ask that she feel her feelings in her own home and leave his alone until she had calmed down?