Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) (8 page)

7

The frigate Durham was two days out of New York, and a fair wind caught her sails while the morning sunlight bathed them in a golden glow.

Still dressed in his buckskins, and having refused to cut his hair, Dakota drew many astonished glances as he and John moved about the deck. John talked to him about England, and since Dakota had been curious about England since boyhood, he was fascinated by what his cousin was telling him. They were forming a warm bond of friendship and mutual respect. Dakota found John entertaining as well as informative.

"Why do you sometimes call me 'my lord'?" Dakota wanted to know.

John looked astounded. "Surely you know that you are the Viscount of Remington?"

"So you tell me, John. I have read many books about the peerage in England, and of course Levi has told me that my grandfather is a marquess, which is like being a chief of the Arapaho, but I do not understand why I would have a title; I have done nothing in the white world to deserve it."

John threw his hands up in exasperation. "That's the wonderful thing about it, you don't have to deserve it, Dakota. You tide is inherited because of what one of our ancestors did, and I fear you can do nothing to dissociate yourself from it."

"Who was this ancestor, and what did he do to deserve such an honor?"

"His name was Alexander Remington. In Queen Elizabeth's time, he sailed Spanish waters, captured Spanish galleons, and brought back to England nine shiploads of Inca gold for the royal treasury. A grateful queen bestowed the title of Marquess of Weatherford on him, and gave him lands and palaces, which remain in the family to this day."

"I have read about such men as he. They were called pirates, were they not?"

John's mouth fell open and he quickly looked around to see if anyone had overheard Dakota. A grin curved his lips. "If I were you, I wouldn't make that observation when you are with your grandfather. He's rather proud of the . . . old pirate."

"This is all very confusing, John. A man should not be born a chief, he should earn that right."

John nodded. "I cannot disagree with your logic, Dakota, but that is not the way it is done in England. The moment your father died, you became Viscount of Remington; should your grandfather die, you would become the Marquess of Weatherford, a title which commands great respect."

"What does a peer do?" Dakota asked, still looking bewildered.

"If he is wealthy, as you are, he doesn't have to do anything unless he so desires. In fact, I know several members of the nobility who have lived their whole lives without doing anything useful. This will be a good time to inform you that you have inherited a sizable fortune from your father's estate. We will not go into what you will one day inherit from your grandfather."

"It is important that a man have money?" Dakota questioned. "I have never thought you could measure a man's worth by his worldly possessions."

"That should be the case, but too often it isn't," John agreed, smiling. "Take me for instance. I am too honest to make money by ill-gotten means, and in my position, I could never make my fortune in trade." He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "Thus I am forced to live by my wits. I was most desperate when my great-uncle asked me to take ship to America and meet you."

"So my grandfather is very wealthy?"

"That's correct. He has mines in Cornwall, farms and townships outside of London. Hell, he even owns whole counties in Ireland."

"What will I be expected to do when we reach England, John?" Dakota asked with growing concern.

"Well, first of all, your grandfather wants me to take you to one of the finest tailors in England and have you brought up to snuff."

"What does this mean?"

John chuckled delightedly, amazed at Dakota's insatiable thirst for knowledge. "That means you must be dressed in a manner befitting a viscount."

A shadow fell across Dakota's face and he glanced up to find two fashionably attired gentlemen approaching them from across the deck.

John leaned forward and quickly whispered to Dakota. "Those are the Henley brothers. Do me a courtesy, and pretend you do not understand English. I have a wager with these two gentlemen, and I may even be able to increase my winnings."

Dakota nodded, thinking that white men certainly had a strange sense of humor.

While Alec and Tate Henley conversed with John, they kept staring at Dakota, but he pretended not to understand them. After a few moments, they walked away smiling, positive that they would recoup their losses. John Donegal would never turn the white Indian into a gentleman, they thought smugly, no matter how noble his ancestors.

***

Dakota stood on deck, allowing the sea spray to hit him in the face. Every passing moment, the Durham was taking him farther and farther away from the only home he had ever known. When he closed his eyes, he pictured all the faces that had been a part of his world. He could still see his mother's sweet smile. He tried not to think of his father as he had looked the last day of his life, ill and wasted away. How vividly he could picture Running Deer as she had looked in death. He tried to push his troubled thoughts aside, because his memories were still too painful to dwell upon.

"There you are, Dakota, I have been searching below deck for you." John came up beside him, and they both watched the dying sun tint the western sky in a blanket of amber.

"I will hear no more lessons about England today," Dakota announced.

Levi had described to John the troubles Dakota had faced, and John felt sympathy for his young cousin, even though he did not understand why Dakota was reluctant to leave behind the life in which fate had placed him. John vowed to do everything to help Dakota fit into his rightful place. He would do this not merely because his uncle had asked it of him, but because he was growing fond of his cousin and knew he would have a difficult time when they reached England.

"No, no more lessons today. You have progressed splendidly, Dakota. Have you noticed how your accent has improved? If I don't watch myself, you will surpass the teacher."

"At first all English sounded alike to me, but since you have been teaching me, I can see that there is a difference."

"That's right. Levi did well in teaching you English. I have merely refined your speech. Your progress is remarkable. Tomorrow, we start on table manners."

Dakota's eyes flickered with disdain. 'You have already taught me how to hold a fork."

'Yes, but there is more to eating than merely holding a fork. Good manners are what separate us from the commoners."

Dakota smiled to himself, remembering the times he had eaten meat with his fingers, and wondering if anything he would eat with a fork would taste half so good.

John glanced out to sea, a worried frown on his face. "I have something else to tell you now, and I know of no way to say it other than to say it right out."

"I am listening."

"Do you know what proxy means?"

"No."

John gripped the railing, not knowing how Dakota was going to respond to his grandfather's order. "Proxy means to have a substitute, someone who will stand in the place of another."

Dakota glanced at John with a puzzled expression on his face. "I do not understand."

John sighed, wishing this task had not fallen to him, for he found it very distasteful. "Dakota, it is your grandfather's wish that you be married tonight. The captain has been instructed to perform the ceremony."

Dakota was baffled. "I have met no one on this ship that I would wish to marry. There are only two women on the ship. One is the captain's wife, and the other his daughter. The wife is married, and the daughter is long past her prime."

John squared his shoulders, knowing there was trouble ahead. "That's where the proxy comes in, Dakota. The captain's daughter will stand in for your true bride."

Dakota's eyes blazed. "No, I will not marry that woman. I do not know her, and she is not the woman I would choose as a wife."

"She will not be your wife," John explained patiently. "Your grandfather has already chosen a bride for you — she is Lady Breanna Kenton, and she is in England, awaiting your arrival. The captain's daughter, Rose, will only represent her tonight. In England, Lady Breanna will also be married to you by proxy with someone to stand in for you."

Dakota was trying to understand. He had been taught to respect the elders of his tribe, and he was willing to transfer that respect to his grandfather, but marry a woman he had never seen? No! "This kind of marriage does not appeal to me, John. If I am being married to someone I have never seen, she must be extremely repulsive, and my grandfather knows that if I see her, I would not be her husband."

John glanced up at the sky in a gesture of helplessness. "That's not the way it is at all, Dakota. This kind of marriage is not uncommon with the nobility."

"I want to respect my grandfather, but I will not bond with a woman I have never seen," Dakota said stubbornly.

"It is your grandfather's command, and you don't have a choice."

Dakota was still trying to understand. "If I do as my grandfather asks, will it be a real marriage?"

"I am told it is legal."

“John, have you ever seen the woman who is to be my wife?"

"No, I haven't," John answered honestly. "All I know about her is that she was chosen because of her bloodline and because of her chastity."

Dakota frowned, wishing he could understand the white man's peculiarities. "I have known of many chaste women in my village. Some of them were virginal because no man wished to take them to his mat."

John suppressed a smile. "We have all known this kind of woman. Let us hope it will not be so with your wife. If fate is kind, she will be a real beauty."

"I can see by your eyes that you do not believe this. Would you not have heard of her if she were a great beauty?"

"Well . . . perhaps she will have an admirable personality."

Dakota did not find this humorous. "I will do this thing, but only because it is my grandfather's wish. But . . . if I do not like the woman, I will not take her to my bed, and I will not hesitate to put her aside."

John quickly nodded, not daring to explain to Dakota that in polite society, it was not so easy to rid oneself of an unwanted wife.

Suddenly Dakota's face whitened beneath his tan. "John, just how far am I expected to go with the captain's daughter tonight?"

John's lips twitched in humor. "You are not expected to sleep with her, if that's what you are afraid of."

"I will not be husband to that woman," Dakota said in a voice that deepened with determination.

"Rest easy, my friend. You will be required to do no more than go through the ceremony with the captain's daughter." He smiled. "The joys of your wedding night will be saved for the Lady Breanna."

That night, in the captain's cabin, with John and Levi in attendance, Dakota Remington, Viscount of Remington, was married to some faceless woman in England. Her substitute, a horse-faced woman in her early thirties, with a nervous giggle, did not serve to dispel Dakota's concerns. As soon as the ceremony was over, Dakota left abruptly, still not convinced that he would not be expected to take the captain's daughter to his bed.

His thoughts were even more troubled as he wondered about the wife awaiting his arrival in England. He was determined that no one would force him to couple with a woman he found distasteful.

***

Breanna's new wardrobe was being packed in trunks for her journey to Weatherford Hall at the end of the week. There she would be expected to await her new husband.

Harriet Milford rapped on the door and breezed into the room, without waiting to be invited. "Well, my dear," she exclaimed, her eyes shining with delight. "My cousin, the Marquess, is most pleased with you. He is smug because he has made a wise selection in a bride for his dear grandson."

Breanna did not much care for the woman, who seemed to take everything the Marquess said as a reverent statement of fact. "Will you be coming with me to Weatherford Hall, Harriet?" Breanna wanted to know.

"No, you will not need me from here on out. I will be leaving in the morning for a holiday in Bath with my husband."

Breanna was glad she would not have to endure this woman's company for much longer. She had no liking for the two members of this family that she had met thus far.

Harriet looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Breanna, my cousin has asked me to . . . he was wondering if you have any notion . . . of . . ."

Breanna fingered the lovely diamond brooch that the Marquess had given her, knowing why the woman was feeling uncomfortable. "My sister-in-law has told me a little of what my duties are as a wife, if that is what you are asking. The Marquess has been less discreet, and has made his views quite clear on the subject. He has arranged everything but the rope to tie me in bed with his grandson."

Harriet gasped in disbelief. "What you are implying is shameful. My cousin would not — "

Breanna was glad she had shocked the woman. She was angry with all the pretenses of trying to make this appear like a normal marriage. The Marquess had bought her for his grandson, and no amount of pretending otherwise would change that fact. "Your cousin has been vociferous in voicing his demands. You see, Harriet, the Marquess has pointed out, in no uncertain terms, that I am to be a breeder, and his grandson a stud."