“Emblyn’s mother,” Harrison overrode before Adelaide could grow more derogatory with her remarks, “was a maid in this house. My father was a known profligate, and maids were disappearing from our employ all the time. I learned that one of the maids bore a daughter when I was fifteen. It was never spoken of, and no provisions or help were given to them. I made it a priority to search them out the moment I inherited. It was too late to help the former maid, as she had passed on, but her daughter was employed at Tehidy.”

“Then she was better off than most girls in her situation,” Adelaide pointed out, her tone crisp. “Why could you not leave it at that?”

Harrison glared without hesitation. “Because she is my sister.”

Adelaide raised a brow. “Barely. Only half.”

“Does it matter?” he snapped, flattening his hand against the desk.

“It does if she is constantly coming to us for charity!” Adelaide scoffed loudly, shaking her head. “Basset, have you no sense?”

“Have you no compassion?” he asked in return. “Believe me, Emblyn was not looking to be rescued. She enjoys her simple life and will take nothing from me, apart from occasionally sending her game and salt. She does not live here, nor does she wish to. I have only just gotten her comfortable enough to come to Trevadden unannounced.”

Adelaide’s lips pursed, her expression that of tasting something sour. “I don’t like it.”

It was now Harrison’s turn to scoff. “You don’t have to like it. You only have to accept it. Emblyn is my sister, as much as if she had been born to my mother rather than her own. She will be invited to every event hosted here, and she is permitted to send her regrets.”

“No, she is not!” Adelaide looked horrified by the idea and shook her head insistently. “I will not have anyone sending their regrets. We ought to be turning people away at our doors, not allowing them to remain comfortable at home!”

“You do whatever you would like with friends and neighbors,” Harrison told her firmly. “Leave Emblyn to her own devices.”

She met his eyes coldly, almost like a stubborn child who was not getting her way. “You had me arrange for an exquisite gown for an illegitimate child.”

He straightened in his chair, fighting for control. He did not usually struggle with such things, but where Emblyn was concerned, he was growing rather protective. And that was impossible to completely control.

“I paid for that gown,” he ground out. “You can have no complaints about it.”

“I purchased a present for her,” Adelaide cried, completely ignoring his statement. “A very fine one, and to hear this—”