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“Bless him.” Mrs. Debenham tilted her head. “He’s your cousin. You’re the direct heir, now alive, and 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, Lord 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, Lord 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 go to your house in London, where your cousin now 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 of The 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 the Illustrated London News .

“Everything looks different. Bigger. More crowded,” he said.

“That’s your house.” Mrs. Debenham pointed at the huge, three-story red-brick house surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. “Do you remember it?”

The evergreen bushes of privet had grown a few feet and had been trimmed in an unusual, squared shape his mother wouldn’t approve of. The white curtains had been swapped with grey ones; another change his mother would frown upon. But aside from these differences, the building was the same.

His pulse spiked and he half-expected to see Robert coming out of the front door in one of his impeccable dark suits and tall hats.

A knot of sadness was stuck in his throat.

Mother wouldn’t be reading a book next to the fireplace while she waited to welcome him and kiss his cheek, complaining about how thin he was. No one was waiting for him.

He stayed in the carriage, letting the ladies go out first.

“Gentlemen should go out first and help the ladies,” Mrs. Debenham said in a forcibly patient tone.

“Don’t worry about that, Hector.” Maddie waved him out.

He inched out and lingered on the pavement.

“It’ll be a shock for your cousin,” Maddie said.

“And for me as well.”

“Verity and I will wait here.” Mrs. Debenham stepped aside to let Hector pass. “It’s a family moment, after all.”

Not really.

As he walked towards the door with Maddie, he gazed up at the towering building. It was home but not quite so. Heartbeat thudding in his ears, he knocked on the door. Moments passed. His hands became clammy. The door was swung open, and an unfamiliar man came into view.

He cast frowned at him. “May I help you?”

Hector took a deep breath. “This is Miss Madeline Debenham, and I’m Hector Wentworth, the duke’s cousin. I wish to see him.”

“His Grace’s cousin? Lord Hector Wentworth is dead.” The man inched the door closed.

“Lord Wentworth was pronounced dead after his ship sank into the ocean.” Maddie gently pushed the door again. “He was rescued from the sea recently.”

The man frowned, and Hector couldn’t blame him. He could hardly believe the tale himself.

“Please, may we see the duke?” Maddie said, almost getting inside. “We sent a wire his grace should have received.”

“My lord.” The butler stepped aside. “I’ll call his grace immediately.”

She showed them to the room where his mother had enjoyed reading and receiving her guests.

A weight pressed against his chest when he entered the room.

Mother’s favourite armchair had been moved next to the window, and the antimacassar was missing.

The Persian carpet, where he and Robert had played with their train sets, was gone, replaced by a dull dark rug.

Even the scent had changed. No longer flowery like his mother’s perfume, but woodsy.

He ran a hand over the back of the silk sofa, the only original piece of furniture.

Tea and coffee stains marred the precious fabric. Mother would be outraged.

Maddie put her hand over his. “How are you? Do you want to come here another day? I’m sure my parents won’t object if you stay with us for a while.”

He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Nothing feels like home, but I want to stay here.”

He wouldn’t impose upon Maddie. He needed her, yes, but he wouldn’t tire her. He paced around the room and paused next to an ugly painting radiating depression.

Maddie shook her head. “What a horrible painting...I’m sorry.”

“No, please. I was thinking the same. I’ve never seen it before and I’m most curious to know your opinion.”

She assumed the adorable expression she always wore when she focused on something.

“It’s so ugly it could be used as a weapon.

The landscape is dull, painted with lazy, weak strokes that have no depth or tension.

Too many strokes. Less is more. Look at those leaves.

They’re all over the place. The colours haven’t been mixed properly.

See those strikes?” She pointed at a few thick green lines.

“An amateur, if you ask me, and not even a particularly creative one. Who would want such a painting in their own house? I’ll get depressed by viewing it. ”

He smiled, releasing some of the tension. “I agree with your assessment.”

A delicious pink crept over her cheeks. “Thank you.”

Voices coming from the corridor interrupted his contemplation of the painting. Footsteps thudded. His name was mentioned. Maddie stepped next to him as if ready to shield him from whoever entered the parlour.

The door opened, and his cousin swept into view, holding a crumpled piece of paper.

He was taller than Hector remembered, but even so, Hector towered over him.

Quentin’s dark hair was neatly styled, but a rebel strand fell over his forehead.

The fabric of his dark suit shone with the hue only good quality clothes had.

The straight nose and large blue eyes were similar to Robert’s, but aside from that, he had little in common with the rest of the Wentworths.

His facial muscles contracted with an emotion that could be either anger or surprise.

“Your Grace. You’ll probably remember me. I’m Miss Madeline Debenham.” Maddie curtsied, breaking the awkward moment. “I’m sorry for the intrusion. I believe you received a wire from Southampton about the incredible news that your cousin Hector, thought dead, had been rescued alive.”

The duke blinked. He glanced at the piece of paper then at Hector. Holding open the door, the butler stood behind Quentin and other members of the household staff were grouped together while some rose on tiptoes to glance past him and into the room. Whispers and worried looks were exchanged.

“I did receive a wire, but I thought it was a joke.” Quentin peered at Hector with an intensity making Hector uncomfortable.

“It’s not a joke. It’s me, Quentin.” Hector straightened, ignoring his starched shirt chafing his skin. “I was stranded on an island for years. The ship, on which Miss Madeline sailed back to England, found me.”

“Hector.” Quentin stepped closer, his pale-blue eyes fixating on him. “I can’t believe it. You must tell me everything.”

“Your grace.” Maddie bowed her head. “Lord Wentworth has been through some harsh days. The physician, who was on board the Steamship Empress , recommends that he rest.”

“Of course.” Quentin crushed the message and tossed it in the fireplace, keeping his gaze on Hector.

The flames flashed brightly as they devoured the paper.

“Miss Debenham, thank you for seeing Hector home. Cousin, this is where you belong.” He spread his arms as if to embrace Hector, who shifted away from him.

Quentin’s face stiffened. “Welcome home, Cousin. I’m eager to hear everything about your extraordinary adventure. I’ll have a room ready for you immediately. What a bizarre day.”

“I’ll leave you then.” Maddie curtsied again. “Lord Wentworth, we’ll see each other soon.” She lingered, her lips parting ever so slightly.

Don’t leave me . He bit down the plea. He’d survived alone for years. He wouldn’t force Maddie to look after him. He waited for her to add something, but she curtsied again.

“Good day.”

“Thank you.” A sharp sensation chilled him as she walked out of the parlour. The farther she went, the less he could breathe. The servants’ chatter receded to a dull noise, and the light dimmed. Only his own pulse pounded loud and clear in his temples. “Maddie!”

She came to an abrupt halt. “Yes?”

He reminded himself he didn’t want to be a burden. So he bowed his head. “I’ll see you soon.”