“Be careful, Harry,” Richard warned, his voice dropping deeper. “Saying please is not a binding commitment. Just because I don’t care about your impending marriage does not mean I have to respect it, either. What if I were to object, hmm? Embarrass you in front of your bride, her relations, anyone you’ve paid to be your friend on that day… after all, mate, I’m your brother. That doesn’t go away.”

“I’m not about to bribe you to stay away,” Harrison told him, trying to ignore how the barb set his nerves on end. “I’ll count on your memory-afflicting habits and distaste for polite company to rein in your interfering impulse, as you have no better nature to appeal to. I’ll be returning to Cornwall with my wife shortly after our wedding, so you need not worry about seeing me further here.”

Richard snorted softly and pushed back to a more upright position on his knees, brushing his unruly curls from his unshaven face. “Back to the backwater, eh? Tell the ragamuffin locals to remember me fondly. And give my warmest regards to Julia. I’d wager she’s a fine view for any appreciative eyes. I’d have enjoyed a taste of that.”

Harrison bit the inside of his lip to keep from striking his brother in defense of one of his oldest friends, though he knew full well he was being baited. He gave his brother a clipped nod. “Goodbye, Richard.”

He started out of the room, fuming, which was not improved by his brother calling after him. “Take care, Harry. I hope your bride shows on the day of!”

All things considered, the interview was not the worst one he’d had. His disgust was the same,his irritation was the same, his feeling of general hopelessness was the same, but the behavior of his brother had been remarkably tame, considering the life he lived. Harrison had managed to keep a more civil tongue in his head and had avoided showing obvious signs of temper. It was not often that his ire was piqued, but Richard had a knack for bringing that about, which was unrivaled in all other creatures.

Still, duty was done, and now he could move forward. The wedding would soon be upon them, the banns were being read, and he could honestly say that all living members of his family were aware of his actions. Emblyn had written her congratulations in response to the note he had sent of Miss Dyer’s identity and had included with those warm wishes the suggestion of listening to his bride rather than only hearing her.

It was sound advice, and her favorite bit of it to give him. She often accused him of hearing her, but not listening. He’d been making an effort there, and it had been some time since she had made the argument.