“Who found me?” he asked, since he didn’t know what to say to the doctor’s astonishment.
“A lady.” The doctor put his glasses back on, but they couldn’t hide the odd look in his eyes. “She was on the deck when she saw the raft and raised the alarm.”
Blazes. That woman had saved his life. “I want to see her.”
Dr. Landon scratched his chin and poured more water in Hector’s glass, studying him as if he were a rare beast. Maybe he was.
“It can be arranged.”
* * *
The newsthat a mysterious blond man had been recovered from the sea was whispered, muttered, and discussed in detail everywhere Maddie went.
From the dining hall to the main deck, her name was on everyone’s lips. Her role in the finding of the raft had been greatly exaggerated by the gossip. In one of the versions she’d heard, she’d dived into the sea and single-handedly saved the man. In another, she’d suffered from a hysterical crisis and fainted on the deck.
She’d also heard another, more disturbing tale. A few people believed the castaway might be a passenger of theObservatory, perhaps even Hector. There hadn’t been any other sunk ships since then. It was logical to assume one of the passengers on theObservatorymight be the castaway.
But Hector couldn’t be the man on the raft, could he? The survivor was unconscious as he’d been for the last three days, and Dr. Landon had firmly forbidden anyone from approaching him. But if the rescued man was Hector, she wanted to talk to him. Still, how could he be? Eight years had passed. His ship had been swallowed by the sea. Where had he been all that time? But if it was him...just the possibility sent her heart into a frenzy and started a flutter in her chest. Hector alive. She couldn’t even fathom the huge meaning of the news.
She was strolling along the deck, twisting her sketchbook with her stiff fingers, when Dr. Landon rushed over to her. The chain of his pocket watch bounced up and down as he ran.
“Miss Debenham. Miss, I need a word.” His reddened face glistened with sweat, which he dried with a handkerchief.
Oh, no. She came to an abrupt stop. Had something happened to the survivor?
“Doctor, is something the matter?”
He bowed his head, panting. She dropped a half curtsy, cursing her manners for delaying the doctor’s answer.
“Well?” she asked impatiently.
“Miss Debenham,” he said, dabbing at his face with the handkerchief again. “I apologise if I’m being so straightforward, but my patient, who claims to be Mr. Hector Wentworth—”
“Excuse me?” She tottered on her legs.
“Yes, yes. I know it sounds impossible.” Dr. Landon loosened the collar of his shirt. “But he claims to be he. Did you know Mr. Wentworth?”
“I did.” Oh, Lord. She’d never suffered from seasickness, but now seemed a good moment to start to.
“Well enough that you would recognise him?” The doctor gave her a pointed look.
“Maybe. Yes. I think I can.”
“Good. He is eager to see you.”
“Me?” She was eager to see him too, but she hadn’t expected him to care.
“He wants to meet the lady who saved him.”
She didn’t have to think about it. “By all means, let’s go.”
As he led her below deck, she shoved people aside in her hurry to see the castaway. The passageway in that part of the ship was narrower than the one in her area. Two people could barely squeeze through together.
“I must warn you,” Dr. Landon said, “he’s easily startled, and his appearance is rather wild. He didn’t let me check his pulse or cut his hair. His hand is swollen. He must have hit it hard somewhere during his crossing.” He paused in front of a door. “It’d be extremely helpful if you’d be able to tell me if the man is indeed Mr. Wentworth.”
“All right.” She nodded, fiddling with her sketchbook.
Dr. Landon went to open the door but paused again, and she barely contained a frustrated groan.
