Had everything he’d done in this marriage thus far been a misstep? Or was he simply having a stroke of extraordinarily bad luck?

He paced in the breakfast room, his food untouched on the plate, half tempted to send a maid upstairs to inquire if Lady Basset would be coming to the breakfast room, or if she had requested a tray. He had purposefully delayed his breakfast in an attempt to wait for her, but she was rather prone to taking a tray in the mornings, so it might all have been in vain. He had so many questions to ask her, some of which he could not even put words to yet.

And if he waited too long to ask them, he might turn coward entirely and retreat into his own ventures and interests, which were safer avenues for his folly.

“What in the world are you doing?”

Harrison stopped and turned for the door, clasping his hands behind him as he managed a true smile for the sight of his wife. “I… erm, waiting for you, as it happens.”

Adelaide quirked a brow, looking rather fetching in a plain morning dress and wrap, her hair loosely arranged in a low chignon. “And what if I had remained upstairs?”

“Then I would have worn a path in the rug, and we’d have had to replace it.” He shrugged, still smiling. “I was prepared for the outcome.”

Her mouth curved just a little, and she nodded, moving to her usual place at the opposite end of the table. “How fortunate for you that I wished to dine outside the walls of my chambers this morning.”

“Indeed.” He laughed a little uncertainly and returned to his seat, waiting for her to sit before he did so. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very,” she said primly, nodding at the footman extending a plate for her approval. “It would appear that wandering the moors is good for one’s quality of sleep.”

Something sharp lanced though Harrison’s chest and he straightened, inhaling carefully. “Adelaide, I’m sorry…”

Her brow creased as she took a small bite of eggs. “For what?”

He spread his hands out, gesturing with his cutlery. “Yesterday. For our fighting lately. For everything, really.”

“You cannot apologize for everything,” Adelaide retorted without sharpness. “You are not responsible for everything. And you are not to blame for yesterday. Had I allowed myself even a moment of logical reflection, I should have asked for direction or guidance before I rode. How were you to know I had no idea of the area?”

“If I had taken the time to show you anything, to introduce you to the area,” he told her, shaking his head, “you might have known enough to not become lost. I did not think of it, and I should have.”