Not to mention her mother sniffed and arched her eyebrows at everything he did, covering her mouth with her perfumed silk handkerchief. She hadn’t been happy about having tea with Hector, but Maddie had refused to listen to her.
The sunlight shone on the white floor and the crystal chandeliers, casting dozens of colours on Hector’s hair. It would be wonderful to paint him. If the moment weren’t charged with tension, she’d enjoy her bergamot tea. The lemony scent alone soothed her nerves.
Verity exchanged a glance with her as Hector started again when a waiter rushed past them.
“Mr. Wentworth, perhaps you wish to return to your cabin?” Verity asked.
Hector gripped his cup of tea with both hands so strongly Maddie worried he might break it. “No.”
Her mother huffed. “Such manners.”
Maddie compressed her lips. “Mr. Wentworth spent years alone. The fact he doesn’t like a crowd is perfectly understandable.” She also hated speaking in his stead as if he weren’t there. But the urge to protect him was too strong to be ignored, and despite what Mother said, he was too much of a gentleman to tell her off.
“You’re right,” Verity said cheerfully. “I can’t imagine spending years alone. It must have been so incredibly hard for you, Mr. Wentworth.”
“I wasn’t alone,” he muttered, staring at his tea.
“You weren’t alone?” Mother asked, lowering her cup. “Who else was on the island?”
“Thomas.” He ran a trembling hand over his face. “He was my friend. I talked to him all the time. It helped not to forget my language. I was worried it could happen.”
Maddie pondered his answer. He’d said the island was deserted aside from animals. If he talked about Thomas in the same manner as the stars, then Thomas was probably a tree.
“Where’s Thomas now?” she asked.
“I left him behind.” He raised his gaze, and the pain echoing in its depths hurt her. “I had to. He couldn’t come with me.”
“Good heaven.” Mother placed a hand on her throat where the white lace of her shirt covered her neck. “You left a man on that forsaken island? Your supposed friend? Another survivor? By all means, that’s horrible.”
Maddie ignored her, having a hunch. “Is Thomas a man?”
Hector’s expression softened when he turned to her. “A bird. I don’t know what species, but he had the most flamboyant plumage and—”
Mother’s laughter cut him off. “A bird? You’re so upset about a chicken. Oh, good gracious. And it was your friend? You talked to it?”
“Mother,” Maddie and Verity hissed together.
She waved dismissively, wiping a tear of laughter. “Oh, please. This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Bethlehem Hospital should be Mr. Wentworth’s home. A bird.” She snickered again. “What nonsense.”
“I apologise, Maddie.” Hector scraped his chair and rose. “I think I’ll return to my cabin.”
Maddie tossed her napkin on the table and stood up. “Hector, please don’t leave.”
He shook his head. “Enjoy your tea. I’m sorry.” He strode across the room among mutters and whispers.
“Mother.” Maddie suppressed an unladylike comment. “I cannot believe you could be so rude to him.”
“He isn’t human.” She giggled. “Perhaps he’s a bird too.”
Anger burned the back of Maddie’s throat. How she wished to see her mother’s smug smile vanish. “Don’t forget he’s the Duke of Blackburn,” she said in a rush.
She didn’t know why she bragged about Hector’s title. Perhaps because peerage was something her mother appreciated, and, gosh, she wanted to sting her. If Mother didn’t care about treating Hector horribly, she’d probably care about mistreating a duke.
Mother stopped laughing. “Lord Quentin is the Duke of Blackburn.”
Maddie gripped the edge of the table. “He’s Hector’s cousin. He inherited the title only because Hector was pronounced dead and then Robert died. But once Hector is back, he’ll regain his title.”
Actually, she had no idea if it was true, but it was plausible. Once Hector was proclaimed alive again, why wouldn’t he inherit the title belonging to his family?
