Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) (10 page)

John put on a hangdog expression. "Would you humble me in my defeat?"

"Nonsense," Alec spoke up. "It is considered a great triumph to win over a man with your reputation. It is said that you live by your wits and have rarely been bested at any game . . . until now."

"I modestly admit to all charges," John said, smiling to himself.

"What do you think about the wager, my lord?" Alec asked, turning his attention to their illustrious visitor. It had been only on rare occasions that he had been in the company of a titled gentleman.

"I care not for wagering myself," Dakota replied, his eyes piercing and cold, with the aloofness of the highborn when conversing with someone beneath his station. "I find it all a trivial waste of time."

"Surely your lordship turns a card or wagers on a phaeton or horse race?"

"True, I have placed a small wager on horse racing in the past," Dakota admitted.

"Then you must not belong to a club?"

"No, not I."

Alec's eyes gleamed, thinking how it would be a feather in his cap if he could bring a baron to the Broadrick Club. "I wonder if you would allow me to be your sponsor for membership in this club?" he asked hopefully, putting his thoughts into words.

"I think not," Dakota replied, glancing around with a distasteful curl to his lip, acting, to the hilt, the part John had handed him.

By now the waiter had appeared with the drinks. Tate raised his glass to John. "Let us drink to your failure and our success. I knew you could not win in this."

"Before I concede defeat," John interrupted, "let me ask you why you were so sure I would lose."

Tate leaned in close and whispered, "Your cousin may be highborn, but he will never fit into the aristocracy."

"Don't feel too bad, John," Alec piped up. "Scratch the surface of us all and you'll probably find a savage lurking there."

"You would know this?"

"Well, of course, neither my brother nor myself are members of the aristocracy, but we do know that they are a tight group and will not accept outsiders. And you can be sure they would consider your cousin an outsider, no matter how noble his blood."

"Are you saying," John asked, "that my cousin would never be accepted into a club like—he glanced around—say this one, for instance?"

"Never!" Alec spoke up. "The fact that he is of noble birth would not help his chances of getting in here. No, it's unthinkable."

"Would you be willing to wager on that?" John asked, his eyes gleaming with hidden lights.

Alec caught his brother's eyes, and they both roared with laughter. "You just don't know when to lie down and say 'enough,' John. I would only be taking your money if I accepted this new wager."

"I'll chance it."

Tate and Alec put their heads together and whispered5 among themselves. Finally Alec spoke, "How much more time would you need before presenting him to the club members?"

"Time is not important. Do you accept the wager?" he reiterated.

"Yes," Tate answered. "My brother and I have decided to be generous." He grinned. "How would you like to go for double or nothing? This will give you a chance to get your money back."

"Done," John agreed, offering Tate his hand.

"Do you want to pay up now?" Alec asked, a satisfied grin on his face.

"No, but I'll take your money. Let's see" John said as if he were calculating the terms. 'You owe me two hundred pounds for our original wager; add this, and it will come to four hundred pounds. Of course, if you split it between the two of you, it will only be two hundred pounds each. You see, I was not quite truthful with you gentlemen. I'm afraid I deceived you when I introduced you to this man. May I present you to my cousin, Lord Dakota Remington?"

"What!" Alec exclaimed.

Tate glanced at Dakota, his eyes disbelieving.

"Did you not yourself just ask my cousin if you could propose his membership to this club, Alec?"

"But—”

"Well, did you?"

Alec looked aghast. He stared closely at the green eyes and saw not arrogance, but humor dancing there. Now he recognized the man as John's cousin. "I'll be damned," he said, a slow grin spreading on his face. "You foxed me, John, you did it!" Suddenly Alec Henley realized the unflattering remarks he had made about Dakota. "Your lordship, I hope you will not take offense to anything I said. I never meant . . . I never thought . . ."

Dakota merely smiled as he worked his fingers out of the white gloves. "I take no offense, Mr. Henley. After all, scratch the surface of us all, and you may find a savage lurking there."

"You may send the money around to my hotel," John informed the brothers. "This afternoon will be soon enough," he said with the light of victory shining in his eyes. "Or will you need time to come up with it? Your credit is always good with me."

Alec raised his glass to John. "One would think I would quit gaming with you, John. I have yet to best you."

John smiled at Dakota. "It was not I who won here today, but my cousin, Lord Dakota."

Dakota had often enjoyed a jest with his Arapaho friends, and he could see the humor in this situation, but deep inside, he felt he had gained nothing by the exchange.

Dakota's thoughts moved ahead to tomorrow when he would meet with his grandfather. It was becoming clear to him that his grandfather had not sent for him out of any affection he felt for him', or else he would have asked to see him the moment he landed in England. Why, then, had he been brought here?

The sound of John's laughter brought Dakota's mind back to the present. All his questions would be answered tomorrow.

9

As the carriage with the Marquess's crest on the door moved down the streets, John gave Dakota a quick assessment. Dakota wore his elegant apparel with the flair of one born to it.

"I must say, Dakota, your grandfather is going to be impressed," John stated, glancing at Levi, who nodded in concurrence.

"Don't think, just because I agreed to wear this confining clothing while I am in London, that I will continue to dress this way."

John chuckled, settling back against the cushioned seat. "I don't care what you do with the clothing afterward, just as long as you wear it when you meet my uncle."

"Underneath, I am no different than I ever was," Dakota reminded John. "You might want to remember that when you present me to my grandfather today. I have already come to realize that my grandfather does not care for me as a person, else he would have seen me the moment I came ashore in England."

John could not deny the truth of that, and he was glad that further conversation was impossible because they had reached the Marquess's townhouse.

Dakota stared at the house, torn with emotions he could not understand. Since he had been a small boy, Levi had filled his head with the idea that he had an obligation to this man who was his grandfather. He knew his grandfather had spent years, as well as a fortune, trying to get him to England, so surely he must want him.

Doubt and uncertainty nagged Dakota's mind. This man he was about to meet had always been bigger than life to him. Would the reality of the man be overshadowed by the picture Dakota had drawn in his mind?

"Dakota," Levi said, breaking into his thoughts. "There's something I want to say before we take you in. I don't know your grandfather very well, but after you have met him, if you do not wish to remain in this country, I will see you back to America."

John had become fond of his cousin, and he nodded at Levi's statement. "And 111 help you get there also. We have never really talked about your grandfather in detail, Dakota. I should have told you that he is a hard man, driven by family pride and family traditions. I have not found him to be a loving man, but then I have watched his struggle over the years to bring you here, so he must feel something for you," John said doubtfully.

"I will see him now," Dakota announced, wondering why he should feel so unsure of himself. While growing up with the Arapaho, his father had instilled in him a confidence and assurance that had dwindled as he became more deeply ingrained in the white world.

The doors of the mansion were whisked open and a liveried servant watched the three men advance up the steps. "His Lordship is expecting you," he said politely to John, but his eyes were on Dakota. "May I say, my lord, that all of us are delighted that you have come to England."

For a moment, Dakota thought the man was addressing someone else. His brow furrowed when he realized the servant had been speaking to him.

John indicated that Dakota should enter the house, and Dakota stood in the entryway, awed at the grandeur that met his eyes. He immediately noticed a portrait which hung on the wall above a gilded table. He walked over to the portrait of a white-haired man who looked dignified and stern. "Is this my grandfather?" he wanted to know.

"Yes," John answered. "Of course, your grandfather was considerably younger when he sat for this."

Dakota turned to the only two friends he had in the white world. "Stay by me," he whispered, staring up at the portrait of the man he had never known and to whom he felt no bond. The eyes held no warmth, the mouth was set in a thin line with no hint of humor. "Don't allow me to make any mistake. I have a strange feeling my grandfather will expect more from me than I will be able to give."

"We shan't desert you," John said, feeling the close ties of kinship and loyalty for Dakota.

The old hunter stood to Dakota's right, knowing what the young man was feeling. "We'll stay with you as long as you need us," Levi assured him.

The housekeeper, Mrs. Crowder, appeared from the top of the massive staircase, her eyes on Dakota as she descended. Her gaze was respectful, her manner warm, when she saw the green eyes that reminded her of Lady Cillia. "My Lord, your grandfather has asked that you attend him at once."—she glanced at John and Levi,— "and you are to come alone*

The moment had come, and Dakota, who had faced a hundred foes in battle, had faced a bear when he had been only a boy, now felt fear at facing a frail old man.

He followed Mrs. Crowder up the stairs, his back straight, looking neither to the left nor the right.

When the housekeeper stopped before a door and opened it, she stepped back. "You will not need me to announce you; his lordship is expecting you."

The room was ablaze with candles as Dakota stepped inside. It was stifling hot, and a smell of medicine lingered in the air. His eyes moved to the red velvet chair, where a white-haired gentleman was seated, a lap robe covering his lower body.

"Come closer, boy. Don't just stand there," the aged voice crackled out. "How can we talk if I have to yell across the room at you?"

Dakota moved closer, knowing the shrewd eyes watched his progress. When his eyes locked with the old man's; Dakota saw no light of welcome there. "Your hair is dark like your father's, but you have Cillia's eyes." A smile touched the Marquess's lips. "Ill bet the young Indian maidens hankered after you, because you are a handsome devil, just like your father. He could have had any woman he wanted, and he got the best of the lot when he married your mother"

Was this the only greeting he was to have? Dakota wondered. "I am pleased to meet you, Grandfather," he said, glancing at the gnarled hands that rested atop the lap robe, and wondering if this weak old man could understand what he was feeling.

"Sit down," came the command as the Marquess pounded the chair across from him with his cane. "It strains my neck to have to look up at you."

Dakota did as he was asked, knowing all the time his grandfather's eyes were assessing him.

"John told me that you speak English remarkably well, and I see that he is right. I am willing to bet that if no one knew your upbringing, they would assume you had been born into society."

Something about this man brought out the anger in Dakota. He had not expected his grandfather to fall on his neck and weep with joy, but neither had he expected this cold indifferent assessment. "I have little liking for your society," Dakota remarked haughtily.

The old man smiled. "Yes, I can see that. You hate us all, don't you?"

"I do not hate you."

"I don't care if you do or not. What we think of each other is not important. All I want from you is a great-grandson, and then you are free to go your own way."

Dakota felt the coldness of the Marquess's words in the depths of his soul. If he had expected any affection from this man, he had deluded himself. "Am I to be a breeder then?" The words were spoken coldly.

"Hump, that's what your bride wanted to know. Now that I have seen you, I can imagine you and she will not have too much trouble producing a child."

Dakota raised his head, feeling as if all the life had drained out of him. "Is this all you require of me?"

"It is." The old man's head sank to his chest. "Leave me now; you have an anxious bride waiting for you at Weatherford Hall."

Breanna counted off the days as they passed. Although she was surrounded by an army of servants, whose only concern was to make her happy, she was lonely.

Now it was the end of summer, and she had not heard from her new husband, although she had been informed that he had landed in England weeks ago. His was an acquaintance she was not anxious to make.

She was grateful for the fine horseflesh that was kept in the stables at Weatherford Hall, because when she was riding, it helped her pass the time, and she could put aside her loneliness for a time and try to forget that somewhere she had a husband who would one day appear and probably demand that she fulfill her wifely duties.

Since Breanna had never had a personal maid, and she felt she didn't need one to cater to her every whim, she chose Etta, one of the downstairs maids, to attend her. Etta, a tall big-boned Scottish girl, was delighted with her elevated position.

Now, Etta was fastening the back of Breanna's yellow riding habit. Placing the yellow hat on her head, Breanna patted it in place. As she rushed down the stairs, she pulled on her black leather gloves.

On the way to the stables, she noticed that it was a warm, cloudless morning. The stiff breeze from the ocean was tinged with salt, and she found it invigorating and her spirits soared.

Frazier, the head groom, smiled as he led the spirited white mare forward. "She'll be needing a good run this morning, my lady. I could hardly keep her still whilst I saddled her."

Breanna had inspected all the horseflesh in the stables and had selected a magnificent Arabian named Joya as her own. Joya could be a bit skittish at times, but Breanna was a good horsewoman and could easily control the mare.

She patted the sleek neck. "We both need a run, don't we, Joya?" The horse nodded, as if she had understood, and both Breanna and Frazier laughed at the animal's antics.

Once in the saddle, Breanna felt all her troubles melt away. With the wind in her face, she galloped across the meadow, scattering a herd of cattle in the wake of Joya's thundering hooves. She was miles from the house before she slowed the horse's pace to a canter.

Her mind wandered as she cantered past the jagged wall, all that remained of an old Roman ruin. She tried to envision the daily lives of the ancient people who had left their mark on this land.

So deep in thought was she that Breanna didn't see the flock of seabirds that had made their nest in the ruins until it was too late. The frantic fluttering of wings spooked Joya, and the horse reared up on her hind legs. Breanna clung to the reins, but the frightened animal shied to the right, and Breanna went sailing through the air to land with a thud on the ground. Her head struck a sharp rock, and she felt exploding pain just before she lost consciousness.

***

Dakota glanced out the coach window, still feeling unsettled by his meeting with his grandfather. Although Dakota knew John and Levi had been curious about what had transpired between him and his grandfather, they had refrained from asking questions, and he did not feel inclined to enlighten them.

As the coach left London, with its crowded streets and mass of humanity, Dakota began to feel more at ease. As they traveled across Cornwall toward Weather-ford Hall, he became aware of a beauty that touched his heart. He had been told that this was the land of his ancestors, and he could almost feel the pull of the land, as if long dead Remingtons were welcoming him home.

As if Levi could sense what the young Viscount was feeling, he spoke. "If I was to live in England, this would be the place I'd choose."

"I agree with you, Levi. This is always what I think of as home" John said.

Dakota rested a tan hand on his black boot. "One thing that has been bothersome to me is being called 'my lord.' I was not comfortable with the attention from the servants at my grandfather's house. It does not suit me to have people cater to me."

John chuckled. “You may not like it, but that's your lot in life. There are many who would gladly exchange places with you. Besides, you look the way a young viscount should look. I did a hell of a job smoothing off your rough edges, don't you agree, Levi?"

A teasing light danced in the old hunter's eyes. "You had a lot to work with, John, but yes, he does fit the picture to me. Lordly, aloof . . . well dressed."

Dakota frowned, not the least amused by their light banter. "It's easy for the two of you to laugh. You don't have to deal with a wife you have never seen. You don't have to worry whether she is . . . uncomely . . . old . . . of a quarrelsome nature. When I try to picture her in my mind, she always seems to resemble the captain's daughter."

"Whatever she's like, you'll find out today," John observed lazily.

At this point John called out to the coachman. "Pull off the road here." To Dakota he said, "I want you to see Weatherford Hall from this vantage point."

The coachman readily complied. John opened the door and stepped out, motioning for Dakota to follow him. "This is a sight you will never forget. There can be no more beautiful spot in the world."

Dakota allowed his eyes to run along the rugged coastline. Huge waves slapped against the cliffs, and at the highest ridge he saw the house gleaming like a red jewel in the sun. Green meadows with flocks of grazing sheep and frolicking horses lent a tranquility to the landscape.

Dakota was reminded of the contrast between Weatherford Hall and the tepee he had grown up in. At the moment he was caught between both worlds, feeling like he belonged to neither. "It is different than I thought it would be," he murmured. "I never imagined it would be so magnificent."

"It will all be yours one day" John told him. "As far as you can see in any direction, the land belongs to your grandfather. While you were meeting with him, I was talking to his solicitor, who assured me there is conclusive proof that you are the legal heir to the tide and estates. No one will ever challenge that you are the Viscount of Remington."