Adelaide sighed heavily when he reached the buttons at the lower part of her back. “Bless you, Basset. Now, if you wouldn’t mind pressing your hands rather firmly exactly in that opening…”

He did so, adjusting his stance so as to provide more pressure. “There?”

“Yes. There.” She hissed a long sound, pressing against his hands to increase the effect. “Oh, heavens. Would you mind terribly never going anywhere so you might do this whenever I have need?”

He chuckled as he turned the heel of his hands into each side, her chemise rubbing against his skin in an almost ticklish way. “Well, I could be persuaded to, I suppose, if it will ease you.”

“Excellent.” Adelaide exhaled, her body relaxing. She turned halfway to face him a little, her eyes meeting his as she gave him a tired smile. “Your son, my lord, is being most disruptive.”

Harrison chuckled very softly, knowing full well that the baby could have been a daughter, and therefore, just like her mother. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean it.”

“He’s your son, of course he means it.”

“He’s your son, perhaps he gets it from you.”

They both smiled for a quiet moment, then Adelaide straightened fully, lowering her hands from the wall entirely. “Thank you, Basset.”

“Of course.” He held out a hand to her, which she took, and walked her toward her rooms, hopefully to find something that would fit her more comfortably. “You will take care, won’t you? In tending Richard. If you were to take ill with something—”

“I’ve already spoken to the doctor on that score,” Adelaide overrode. “What Richard has is not contagious. It is only affecting him so because of his weakness. Ill health prior to poor habits. He likely had no idea he was even in ill health, but it could have been so for years.”

Harrison made a soft sound of acknowledgement. “That would not surprise me at all. He has not taken care of himself for a great many years.”

“Yes,” Adelaide muttered, shaking her head, “so he told me.”

That made him frown. “He told you? When? Has he been lucid?”

Adelaide stopped in her tracks, closing her eyes and clamping down on her lips. “No,” she said slowly. “He told me in his letters.”

Harrison dropped her hand and took hold of her arm, his hold firm. “He wrote to you? When? How?”

“The first letter came just a few weeks after we arrived at Trevadden. He introduced himself and told me a little about his life and his sins. He did not hide anything.” She tried to shake her arm loose from him, but he held fast. “I wrote back to him out of politeness, given he was your brother.”

“And?” he pressed, his neck and ears growing hot, his pulse quickening. Her own temper was rising, he could see it, but in this, he would not back down.