Something had happened, or was happening, and it was impossible to say if it was for good or for ill. She had wanted someone else when she had married him. Why hadn’t she ever said so? It explained so much about her resentment toward him and her resistance toward the match.

How deep had her feelings for the man been? He was far too familiar with Phillip Evans—or at least had encountered him several times in his ventures to fetch Richard back from his favorite depravities in London.

There was no need to disillusion Adelaide of her favorite’s perfection when it would serve no purpose. She was in pain enough as it was, even if it was mostly superficial. And it was entirely possible that it was not superficial at all. He might never know.

“Ee be ‘avin’ a starin’ contest, or wha?” Emblyn asked in her usual boisterous manner.

Adelaide blinked and looked at Emblyn then, severing the connection between them. “Was there something you wanted?”

Harrison rose without a word and went to his sister, pulling her into his side and kissing the top of her head. “Evening, Em. Hungry?”

He felt Emblyn nod against him, though she avoided actually tucking into his side. “Starved.”

“I did not know you were expected,” Adelaide grumped, fidgeting with her cutlery. “We would have waited and set a place.”

“Emblyn is free to come and go as she wishes,” Harrison reminded her firmly, the tension in him growing ever more taut, “without announcement or invitation. This is as much her home as yours.”

Adelaide’s mouth puckered as with a sour taste. “Apart from my living in it.”

“She does not wish to.”

“I do not have that luxury.”

Emblyn looked between them in outright bewilderment. “Be ee fightin’ about me, or—?”

“Of course you do,” Harrison snapped, moving back to his end of the table and placing his palms upon it. “But since you’ve not mentioned leaving, I presumed you to be comfortable.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“We’ve established this.”

“I can go,” Emblyn tried again, gesturing for the door.

“Stay,” Harrison barked.

“Go!” Adelaide said at the same time, shooting to her feet. “Go and be as poor as you like, you raggedy ingrate, and may your pride wallow in the desperate generosity showered on you by your half-brother while you insist on keeping him at a distance!” She shoved her chair back and marched out of the dining room without another word, her napkin fluttering to the ground after her.

Odd tremors itched at Harrison’s legs as he exhaled very slowly, very carefully.

What in the world was wrong with his wife?

“I am sorry, Emblyn,” he murmured after taking in another slow breath. “Adelaide is…” He shook his head, laughing once without humor. “I don’t even know what she is, but she has no right to speak to you that way.”