“Mother,” Maddie said in a harsh tone.
Hector peeled his gaze off the window. “I don’t understand.”
Mrs. Debenham patted his hand, causing him to stiffen. “You’re going to be a duke soon. Isn’t that thrilling?”
Maddie glared at her mother. “Is this the right moment?”
Verity shook her head, muttering under her breath.
“No time like the present,” Mrs. Debenham said.
Hector didn’t answer. He had no idea what she meant.
“Well?” she prompted. “Lord Quentin will be surprised to see you, even more surprised to know he isn’t the Duke of Blackburn any longer.”
“Mother, you’re impossible.” Maddie acquired the fierce light she always had when she defended him.
He liked it. He liked her passion and determination. He likedher.
“Quentin is the duke,” Hector said, puzzled by the whole conversation. He only wanted to watch the English countryside and think about nothing.
“Bless him.” Mrs. Debenham tilted her head. “He’s your cousin. You’re the only Wentworth who should be the duke. The title and the estate should go to you.”
Maddie shook her head. “Please don’t mind my mother, Mr. Wentworth. She talks nonsense.”
“Silly girl.” Mrs. Debenham pressed her lips in a flat line. “Titles aren’t nonsense, especially ducal titles.”
Hector slouched back on the seat and watched the landscape stream past him. Green hills spread across the land covered with trees and barley fields. So much green. So much space. No more endless blue and water. Only firm land. He still had to decide if the idea excited or terrified him. In a few hours, he’d sleep in his bed. Be in his house. Eat food he hadn’t hunted or gathered. How was he going to fill his days?
The door to the compartment was pulled open, and he moved before he could reason on his actions. He shot to his feet and flexed his knees in the stance he’d taken many times to wield his pointed stick to defend himself. A startled train attendant stepped back.
Maddie stood up and placed a hand on Hector’s arm. “Everything is all right, Mr. Wentworth. It’s the attendant.”
Breathing hard, Hector sat down again as the man talked with the ladies and checked their tickets. His heart beat more easily when Maddie sat next to him in a swish of blue velvet. She peered at his face with her big, concerned eyes.
“We’re about to arrive in London,” she said.
He nodded.
“Do you wish to stay in your house where Lord Quentin resides, or do you want to find another accommodation?”
No, he didn’t want a new place. “My house.”
“Very well.” She squeezed his hand briefly. “Be ready for the city. London might be scary.”
If Southampton was noisy, London was positively boisterous. An oppressive sensation lodged in his throat the moment he stepped out of the station. The chaos hurt his senses, overwhelmed by too many voices, colours, and smells. Hawkers yelled about the last issue ofThe Londoner. The smell of fried fish mingled with that of burning coal. People jostled each other along the platform in their hurry to reach a train. He had to step aside not to be hit by a rushing boy. If Maddie didn’t lead him through the crowd, he would wander aimlessly, distracted and scared by all the things happening at the same time around him.
Even in the carriage, he couldn’t filter out the rowdy noises and the flashes of colour from the people promenading along the pavement. Hell, the air was so thick he could barely breathe. A thin layer of coal dust covered everything from the white walls of the townhouses in Kensington to the faces of the street vendors.
He loosened the collar of his shirt. If those people spoke English, he couldn’t tell. The words and the clunking of the carriages became one big noise buzzing in his ears. Mrs. Debenham and Verity talked about Verity’s betrothed and the preparation for her wedding, thankfully not paying attention to him.
Maddie touched his hand from across the carriage. “Too much?”
He nodded, wishing he could hold her.
“Does the city look familiar?”
He forced himself to gaze outside. So many carriages, so many people, and so many houses. In eight years, more buildings had risen where there’d only been a patch of land. The gentlemen wore sleek coats and shiny hats he didn’t remember having ever seen before. The ladies had tighter skirts and smaller bustles, and there seemed to be more streets than a city would ever need. Piles of horse dung covered the cobbles. That hadn’t changed. He winced as a street hawker yelled about the latest copy of theIllustrated London News.
