The introduction between Richard and Adelaide had been brief, as Richard had been bellowing incoherencies and slurring every syllable, even calling Adelaide “Mother” once when his eyes had been open.He could only hope it would be enough to convince her that his brother was not a connection worth preserving.

True to her word, Adelaide had managed the journey from Cornwall without complaint, and, apparently, without pain. He did not think that was entirely true, but she refused to modify her answer in any way when he asked. It had been three days now, and she had not uttered a single word of complaint.

She had not cried, she had not snapped at him, she had not so much as flinched at the idea of nursing Richard in his sickbed, and she somehow managed to smile at him every morning over breakfast rather than staying abed and taking a tray.

It was astonishing. She was astonishing.

He had not quite seen it before, but he should have. Her bluster and haughtiness, what he had first seen in her, had hidden a heart of goodness and sweetness, no matter how she pretended otherwise. She prided herself on her strength and her invincibility, her utterly impenetrable nature, which meant that any perceived vulnerability was a failing on her part.

Harrison could not disagree more. Her vulnerability was the most beautiful part of her, the glimpse of reality beneath defenses she had convinced herself were truth. He knew he was no better, using his reserve to hide his feelings, whereas she displayed all emotions with great fanfare, except for her vulnerabilities—but they were improving in their alterations with each other. Over the course of their marriage, they had gone from enemies to allies to friends, and now…

Well, now he craved the very sight of her. Not because of her beauty, though it was certainly no hardship to look upon her, but because she made his heart warm and his mood improve. She made him smile and gave him strength. She calmed his agitation and challenged his mind.

She was a rare creature, his wife, and he was growing especially fond of her.

Even when she barked orders at him and kept him from his tasks over some tedious thing she wanted his opinion on.

Harrison smiled to himself as he moved through the house, heading up the stairs to the next floor to see to the patient, having spent the morning with his London solicitor to ensure that affairs were in order, as well as to make sure that Richard would never be granted access to anything in his accounts or belonging to him. It was tightly secured and had been for years, but he had added additional measures even so.

There could be no assuming anything where Richard was concerned.