If Adelaide could overcome her ideas of convention and propriety, there really was nothing to object to in Emblyn’s character or person. But his wife did bear the opinions of general high society. There was no telling if she was capable of setting them aside.

He was asking a great deal of her, he could acknowledge. Anyone in Society might have felt the same. But the idea of his sister being rejected had never been one he had been comfortable with, and he grew less and less rational about it the closer to his sister he became.

He hoped that one day his wife would be just as valiant a defender for her. It was a foolish hope, but there it was.

Ironically, the world might have accepted Richard as proper, even with his behaviors, while they spurned Emblyn for her birth.

The injustice was not lost on Harrison.

But he would send word to his sister that she was invited to dine, and he would not be easy until that meal was over, one way or the other. And seeing what family remained when it was.

Life with Adelaide thus far had not been boring, he could say that for certain. Her tempers were high and her will was strong, which gave him a never-ending battering for this mistake or that, this annoyance or that, this inconvenience or that. She had taken over Trevadden with an enthusiasm and determination that impressed him, even if he could never say so. Rooms that had never bothered him were suddenly more comfortable, more refined, more suited for their purpose, and flowed rather perfectly from one to the next.

A uniformity of elegance, he’d thought just that morning as he had made the walk from the breakfast room to his study. The artwork was in the process of being switched out, some returning to the gallery, some being donated to local exhibits, some disappearing altogether. Adelaide had been considerate enough to ask him if there were any paintings, furnishings, or antiques that held any particular meaning or appealed to his tastes before rearranging anything.

He hadn’t had preferences, but her acknowledgment of the place as his home as well had not gone unnoticed.

She was a curious one, his wife.

From the moment they’d met, she’d bristled against him. Tossed barbs directly in his face. Held nothing but contempt and coolness for him. It softened in public, in the presence of nearly anyone else, but it always lay beneath the surface. She was powerful, regal, aloof. She did not suffer patronizing, dismissal, or being ignored. It must not only be noted when she entered a room but appreciated. No matter the weather, his mood, or her interest, her confident composure never once faltered.

Until it was night.