Basset was glaring at her as though she’d committed a crime. “Because I despise vanity and imperiousness, that is why. We are all perfectly capable of walking to the table ourselves. I would appreciate you sitting in your usual place at the opposite end of the table. Emblyn, sit wherever you like. Sit on the floor if you’d like. Or upon the table. Right in the middle.”

Adelaide hissed softly through her teeth, preparing for the most combative meal of her life.

“Ee be steamin’ like a crock, Harry,” Miss Moyle pointed out from behind Adelaide, the use of such a childish name making Adelaide choke a little. “I ‘ave some manners, no need for ee to pretend naw.”

“Clearly, she expects you to be something feral,” Basset snapped, flinging a hand toward Adelaide. “Why not show her what that would look like?”

“Haud ee bal!” Miss Moyle barked, pushing past Adelaide almost roughly as she marched to her brother. “Ee be puttin’ words in ‘er mouth she never said. If she dislike me, let her dislike me. On her own, Harry. Not in yer own head. We know wha’ I am, and all the shining in the world won’ make a penny gold.”

Basset stared at his sister, his jaw tightening, but then, eventually, he nodded once. “Fine. Dinner.” He turned toward the dining room again, putting his hand at his sister’s back and guiding her in beside him.

Adelaide exhaled very slowly, curious about the rise her words had suddenly brought about in her husband. The man was more collected than any she had ever known, even when he was insulting her, yet there, he had been in a proper temper.

So. He could feel emotions with a certain strength and energy, despite his better nature and best attempts.

And he’d thought his sister would be Adelaide’s most lively opposition?

As his sister had said, not bleeding likely.

Adelaide followed them into the dining room, lifting her chin just a touch as she moved to her chair. Her husband’s dark look met her across the table, and he shook his head just a little, either in warning or disbelief. Or perhaps with a threat for her.

What bound these half-siblings together with such strength that it transformed her husband? Adelaide had several siblings, and she had never felt anything of the sort despite being passionate in her emotions. If she were to be perfectly honest, in the rawest manner, she was envious.

No one would have defended her that way. Not even Phillip.

Her heart fluttered weakly at the thought of him, but she brushed thoughts of him away and focused on the plate of food before her. “We hope to see you at our party, Miss Moyle,” Adelaide announced as though there had been no incident prior to the meal. She cut into her lamb neatly. “I understand you are not fond of formal gatherings.”