He whirled in the grass to watch the others rush from the tunnels, and a bell clanged the warning, which made Harrison wince. Anyone within a mile or two would hear the sound and would know something was likely amiss at Drennick.

There went the reputation.

“Is everyone out?” Harrison demanded when he saw Drake emerging in a dusty cloud with several others.

“Yes,” Drake called, coughing slightly. He gestured at Harrison. “You’re bleeding, milord.”

Harrison swiped at his cheek, seeing the streak of blood on his linen sleeve. “Dammit.” He exhaled roughly and propped his hands on his hips. “Is there a reason why Mr. Breton is able to behave so recklessly in a tunnel that has been cautioned against such things?”

Drake’s eyes widened and he looked at Martin for confirmation. “Breton?”

Martin nodded once.

Drake cursed and looked back at Harrison. “It won’t happen again, milord.”

“No, I shouldn’t think so.” Harrison nodded toward the mine. “Is it a complete rockfall?”

“We don’t know until everything settles,” Drake told him. “Go home, my lord. Tend to your wounds, apologize to your wife on my behalf for your injuries. I will send you word when there is something to tell.” He looked like a man beaten down, which was the only thing that kept Harrison from barking at him for all of this.

Harrison hesitated a moment, then turned back toward his horse.

“My lord?”

He glanced over his shoulder toward the mine captain.

Drake smiled bitterly. “I offer you the compliments of the season. I hope Twelfth Night is blessed indeed.”

Harrison nodded his thanks, then continued to walk away, grumbling to himself about the folly of men and his own. Desperate to escape Adelaide’s obsession with their Twelfth Night masquerade, he had fled Trevadden. Having spent so much time at Wheal Lidden, it was only right that he attend to business with Wheal Drennick, and this…

Well, this was certainly not something he had anticipated.

At least tomorrow evening, he would be wearing some sort of disguise so Adelaide could not fly into too much of a temper, should his cut be worse than he thought.

She was becoming an interesting creature, his wife. Sweeter than she had ever been, yet losing none of the bite in her banter. Glowing with her usual beauty, and yet having gained something more ethereal as her term of carrying their child continued. He was simply incapable of looking anywhere else when she was in the room.

And to then feel their child move within her on Christmas Eve. There was nothing to do but kiss her, though his lips had only touched her hair. They had not been intimate since her courses had stopped, and while he ached for that connection with her, he was finding such surprises in life with her without it.He would never have expected it. Not with her.