Harrison groaned and threw up his hands. “How do you want me to arrange this, Emblyn? I want to take care of you the way I would any full-blooded sister of mine. Protect you in all the legal ways available to me.”

She shook her head as though he had told a very poor joke. “Ee’ll make me a target for high falutin’ types, an’ far above my own kind.”

“I don’t care who you marry, Em. I don’t care.” He came over to her and put his hands on her arms. “He could be a smuggler, a miner, the butcher, the son of a viscount, or Gage Trembath.”

She snorted at the idea, which made Harrison smile.

“I don’t care who you marry,” Harrison told her firmly, “as long as he will love you and take care of you. And by giving you a dowry, I can help ensure that, no matter what his station, you will be provided for. That’s all I want.”

Emblyn searched his eyes for a moment, then exhaled roughly. “Oh, very well. I s’pose it’s all well an’ good if I be yer sister, which I seem to have accepted. If ee will let me choose my own, I’ll not object further.”

It was the first time she had hinted at even remotely being interested in a husband, let alone in matters of the heart, and her wishing to have her own choice was more surprising for it. Was there someone in mind already and she’d never told him? Now was not the time to ask, if he wished the subject of the dowry closed, but his curiosity was certainly piqued.

“Thank you.” Harrison kissed her brow quickly.

“Aw, isn’t that nice? I wake up to find I have a common sister, as well as an arrogant brother. Aren’t I the lucky fellow.”

Harrison ground his teeth together, cursing in three languages. “Emblyn, please leave us.”

“No, Emblyn, please don’t,” Richard insisted. “You’ve been tending to me so well, I think you will keep our brother from killing me.”

Emblyn’s jaw tightened, and she turned from Harrison to look at their brother in the bed. “What makes ee think I won’ kill ee first, brother?”

Richard smiled at her, despite looking as though he had spent the entire night dying in a hellhole, his linen nightshirt stained from days abed. “The Cornish accent has never sat well with me, my dear Emblyn. Kindly speak with a different one. If you can.”

Harrison snarled and started toward the bed, only Emblyn pressed a hand to his chest.