She beamed, and her whole face became radiant with happiness. “I want to try. Since you’re here, I keep sketching more.” She wiggled her fingers. “And my fingers are less stiff. I can control them a little better.”
He kissed her fingers. “Let’s sketch then.”
* * *
Hector could watchMaddie draw all day. Her face tightened and relaxed, depending on what she sketched. When she drew the chiaroscuro, her brow furrowed, but when she drew the lines of a silhouette, her expression softened and she smiled. After the conversation with Ernest, they didn’t have much to do but wait for the lunch. In fact, it was better if Hector didn’t show himself around, lest the rumours grow. So he was with Maddie, working on his book.
“Was the flower like this?” She showed him the sketchbook with flowers, plants, and animals he’d described to her.
He tilted his head, forcing himself to focus on the sketch and not on her delicate hands which he wanted to kiss and feel on his body. “Yes. The petals were more pointed though. Aside from that, it’s wonderful. You’re an amazing artist.”
“Not really.” She focused on the petals and reshaped them with quick strokes of her pencil.
“How can you say that?” He gestured at the dozens of sketches she’d already completed.
There were the trees from the island, insects, birds, and flowers, all sketched with great details and realism. He could almost smell the scent of the orchids and hear the flamboyant birds sing.
“I’m not a professional. My knowledge is limited.” She added a few shadows on the petals. “No one would buy my paintings. But book illustrations might be good enough to help me earn something.”
Yes, earning. That was the crux of her problem.
He propped his chin on his closed fist. “What if I help you pay the academy’s fee?”
She raised her right hand and wiggled her fingers. “It’s not a matter of money. My hand still hurts sometimes. My fingers don’t always do as they’re told.”
“But you said they got better since you started sketching more. You need to practise.” He opened and closed his thick fingers. “I did exercises to strengthen my fingers to climb trees. You can do the same. Have you ever tried?”
She paused and stared at her scar. “Actually, yes. I mean, I worked hard to draw again, and my fingers got a little better. But I’ve never done specific exercises to strengthen my fingers. Do you think it might work?”
“I’m sure it will.”
She lowered the sketchbook. “Great, but let’s focus on getting your title back first.”
“After that, may I help you?” He raised his eyebrows. “May I have the privilege to pay for your studies? Provide for you while you concentrate on your art?”Please say yes.
She’d refused his money years ago. But surely, things between them were different now.
She laughed. “You don’t have to.”
He took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. “There’s nothing I want more than to help you become the great artist you can be.” He kissed her knuckles and the scar. “I want everyone to know how talented you are. I want you to be happy.”
Her lips parted, but whatever she wanted to say was cut off by her mother who barged inside the drawing room in a flutter of blue skirt.
“I’ve been quite tolerant with you.” Mrs. Debenham pointed a finger at Hector. “I gave Madeline more freedom, turned a blind eye to her sudden disappearances, and for what? To have her almost drowned in the Serpentine of all places and find you kissing her hand? And you still haven’t reclaimed your title.” She stretched out an arm towards the door. “I kindly request that you leave.”
Maddie lowered her sketchbook. “But Mother—”
“Besides.” Her mother folded her arms over her arms across her chest. “Rumour has it that a physician produced a certificate stating Mr. Wentworth isn’t mentally stable.” She huffed. “Your chances of finding a champion are quite slim.”
Maddie exhaled, but Hector didn’t see the point in lying.
He rose and bowed his head. “Dr. Trevor Smith didn’t even visit me.”
Mrs. Debenham spiked her brow. “Dr. Smith you say.” She narrowed her gaze. “Tell me, Mr. Wentworth, do you want to be the Duke of Blackburn, or are you looking for a past-time, or worse, a way to ensnare my daughter?”
Past-time? “The dukedom is my legacy. My brother believed I would be a great Duke of Blackburn. Yes, I want to be the duke. I want to honour my family’s legacy, and I want to do the right thing for Maddie.” Ensnare Maddie. Ridiculous. If anything, it was the other way around.
“Smith.” Mrs. Debenham paced, a hand on her hip. “I might be able to do something and help you with Dr. Smith’s certificate.”
