“And I heard back from him some weeks later. We have been writing to each other on occasion.”

Harrison groaned and covered his face with a hand, turning away with a harsh curse.

“What?” Adelaide demanded. “What is so wrong with writing letters to your brother? I know the two of you are on strained terms, and he has never once pretended that he is a good man, let alone your equal. I have no illusions of him.”

“But you do!” Harrison laughed incredulously and looked back at her. “You do, Adelaide. You look at him with sympathy and hope, as if he is a creature that can be redeemed—that ought to be redeemed. But what you fail to comprehend is that my brother has never been repentant of anything in his life, let alone his favorite collection of sins. And he does have his favorites. I should have confided all of this to you from the start, but it is distasteful to be reminded of it, as I have failed time and time again to have any impact on him.”

Adelaide came to him, taking his hands. “Read his letters written to me, Harrison. He is repentant. Not of all things, but of some. See the version of your brother that I have known.”

He pulled his hands from hers, shaking his head. “There is no version of my brother that I do not know and have not seen, Adelaide. Whoever you think you know is a lie. Everything Richard says is a lie. If you do not see it now, you soon will. And if you had told me he had written to you, I might have spared you this.”

“Spared me what?” She propped fists on her hips and gave him a derisive look. “I have not been injured by him in any way.”

Harrison slowly shook his head one more time, bile rising and his mouth going dry. “You will be, my dear. You will be.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

Basset had not spoken to her in four days.

Four long, anguishing, tedious days.

How had she ever endured such silence at Trevadden in the days before she and her husband had found companionship between them?

It was torture now, particularly as she continued to grow larger in size, more pained in places, and more fatigued as days wore on. He had once loved to feel their child move and kick within her, once even speaking to her stomach as though the child could respond to his words.

Now he avoided Adelaide at every moment, even at meals, and she felt she might die for even the smallest glimpse of him.

She relied on Emblyn to tell her everything she could about how Basset had looked and acted, what he’d said, and if he’d given her any indication of his thoughts for Adelaide. His feelings for Adelaide.

If he might forgive Adelaide.