Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) (25 page)

Stephen watched his sister eat with relish, something she hadn't done since her husband's death. "We know nothing about this woman, Mary. You realize she could be an undesirable, don't you? Or perhaps even a criminal."

"No, she isn't capable of any wrongdoing!" Mary adamantly defended her charge. "You have not seen her or talked to her as I have, or you would not make that statement. She is well born, and extremely kind and thoughtful. She understands about my feelings for Tom." Mary's eyes were tear-bright. "Breanna has helped me begin to accept Tom's death, and in time, I believe I shall be able to put his ghost to rest."

Stephen could hardly believe the transformation that had come over his sister in only one day. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks had color in them, and she was chattering endlessly. He laughed, feeling the weight from years of concern for his Mary's health lift from his shoulders. "I don't care what the woman has done or how debased her life may prove to be. She has been good for you, and I will be eternally grateful to her."

Mary leaned forward and placed her hand on her brother's. "See her and talk to her, Stephen, then you will know that she is a lady. We have to help her."

He chuckled in amusement. "I will do all I can to help your lost lady. If she finds it acceptable, I will talk with her tonight to see if we can begin to unravel the mystery of her past." His grip tightened on Mary's hand. "I merely feel it would be remiss of me if I didn't point out to you that she might prove to be other than the angelic picture you have painted of her in your mind."

Mary lifted her wineglass and held it out to her brother. "Talk to her, and you will come to the same conclusion as I. Breanna is very special."

***

Breanna had agreed to receive Lady Mary's brother, Stephen, in her bedroom. Now that the hour approached, however, she felt nervous about the meeting.

Lady Mary, sensing Breanna's apprehension, spoke to her encouragingly while tying the pink bow on the dressing gown she had given her. "No need to be frightened, Breanna, Stephen is harmless, especially when he's talking to a pretty woman. You see, he is my twin, so I know him very well."

"Am I pretty?" Breanna questioned.

"My dear, yes." Lady Mary laughingly grabbed up the hand mirror from the dressing table and held it in front of Breanna. "Here, judge for yourself."

Breanna stared at the face of a stranger, noting the color of her eyes and hair. "Who am I?" she asked with terror in her voice.

Lady Mary felt her heart go out to the beautiful lost Breanna. "My brother will help you find out who you are," she said with assurance. "When Stephen sets his mind to a task, he always sees it through to a successful conclusion."

At that moment, a soft rap sounded on the door, and Lady Mary swept across the room to admit her brother. Breanna stared at the tall man who towered above his delicate twin sister. His eyes were hazel like Mary's, and his hair was the same color, but where her features were soft, his were finely chiseled. He was dressed in buff-colored trousers and calf-high riding boots. His eyes were alert, and Breanna had the distinct feeling that the Duke was a powerful force to reckon with.

Mary led Stephen forward. "Breanna, this is my brother, Stephen, Duke of Clandannon. Stephen, our guest, Breanna."

The Duke stared at the most beautiful-woman he had ever seen. Her lovely delicate face was framed by riotous red-gold curls. The fear in her golden eyes cut at his heart. He could not bear the thought that his horses had run down this lovely angel. He had came here tonight with the intention of exposing the woman should her loss of memory prove to be a trick. Now, all he could think of was how beautiful and angelic she was.

"Has my sister made you comfortable?" He paused, smiling. "I hope you will not think it improper if I call you Breanna, since we do not know your surname."

"I don't think it would be improper at all, Your Grace, and I am feeling much better, thank you."

Stephen took note of her manner of speech, the cultured tone, the upper-class pronunciation, and he immediately realized that she was of the aristocracy.

He seated himself in the chair beside her bed, while Mary stood beside him. "Can you remember nothing else about your past, Breanna?"

"Several times today, I have had a vision of a place, but it quickly disappears. It seems a great house, perhaps a palace beside the ocean."

Stephen was thoughtful for a moment. "Do you recall anything else? Mary says you thought you had been running away from something. Can you remember what?"

"No." She looked into compassionate eyes. "I have been remembering something, but I don't know how it relates to me. The name Kenton . . . Fielding Kenton."

The Duke's eyes brightened. "I know of a Lord Fielding Kenton. He used to game at my club some years back. I had heard that he retired to his country estate. I wonder if this could be the man?"

"Do you feel this man might be your husband?" Lady Mary asked.

"No, I don't think so. But I cannot say for certain."

The Duke stood up. "Well, Breanna, we have something to go on now. I will see what I can do to help you find your past." He held his hand out to her, and she placed her hand in his warm clasp.

"Your only task will be to rest and grow stronger."

She smiled up at him. "How can I ever thank you and Lady Mary for your kindness to me. I am sorry to have to rely on your hospitality, but I seem to have little choice in the matter."

"Nonsense. You must consider our house as your own. Since you are starting to remember people and places of your past, I feel you will get your complete memory back any day. The doctor does not think your loss of memory is caused entirely by the accident. He believes there might be something in your past that you are avoiding."

Breanna's eyes grew round and frightened. "What if I am a despicable person and have committed some horrendous crime? I could be a thief or . . . worse!"

He laughed softly, while turning her hands over and seeing no calluses. "Nay, Breanna, you have not the hands of a thief. These are the hands of a high-born lady." Stephen glanced into eyes so deep he felt as if he were drowning. "Trust me in this, Breanna. I am a good judge of character, and my intuition tells me that you are what you seem, a sweet innocent."

Mary smiled as she moved to the bed and motioned for Breanna to lie down. She could easily see that Stephen was captivated by their guest, as she knew he would be. Pulling the covers up to Breanna's chin, she turned to Stephen. "My patient has had enough excitement for one day. Let us leave so she can sleep."

Through tear-filled eyes, Breanna watched the brother and sister depart. Why did she feel as if she were being swallowed by some deep, dark void? Were there things in her past that she did not want to remember? What if the Duke was wrong, and she was a criminal?

Closing her eyes, she willed her mind to be a blank. She didn't want to think about anything. She just wanted to sleep and keep on forgetting.

24

Dakota rushed up the steps and into the house. For three days he had executed an exhaustive search for Breanna without success. He was frantic, wondering what had happened to her, and his burden was twofold, since his grandfather had taken a turn for the worse.

On entering the sitting room, he found John and Levi lounging in chairs, both mud-spattered and exhausted. The dejected looks on both their faces told Dakota their search had been as fruitless as his.

"Where can she be?" Dakota asked, sinking wearily into a chair. His eyes were metal-bright, and his face was a veil of misery.

"There isn't any way to track her here in this town, like on the prairies," Levi observed, feeling completely defeated.

"It doesn't seem possible that she could have eluded all three of us." John's eyes were hard as he looked at Dakota. "Just what did Breanna see when she went back into the dining room to talk to you that made her run away?"

Dakota's eyes were dull. "She saw Rye Saffron in my arms." Bitterness laced his tone.

"Damn you!" John roared, coming out of his seat. "I gave Breanna my word of honor that you hadn't touched that woman."

"I never touched Rye Saffron. I didn't even like her" Dakota admitted angrily. "I merely felt pity for her."

John paced the floor. "I warned you this could happen, but you think you are so damn noble and insisted you knew what you were doing. Incidentally, where is the lady in question at this moment? I hope you have had the good sense to send her away."

Dakota did not like John's tone of voice and his own voice was cold as he replied. "I do not need you to point out the errors of my ways. I am now well aware that Rye Saffron was not truthful with me."

Dakota's shoulders slumped in defeat. He did not know how to deal with deceit and dishonesty. "I was told that the lady left of her own accord. I am sure she realized it was the wise thing to do."

His jaw tightened in anger. "She is fortunate that my mind was filled with concern for Breanna, or I would have thrown her out."

"Well," Levi chimed in, "the way I see it, a man's got a right to be a fool once in his life. That is, if he learns something from the experience."

Dakota stood up and walked to the window. The morning mist dispelled the night shadows, and a bright sun promised a cloudless day, but he felt a chill in his heart.

He was frantic to find his love. What if something had happened to her? He battled between fearing for her life and wanting to punish her for putting him through this hell. He had to find her—he just had to! He prayed that nothing had happened to Breanna. There was no light in the world without her; there was only this deep empty void.

"The messenger you sent to Weatherford Hall returned an hour ago. Breanna has not been there," John said in a lethargic voice, his anger melting away.

Dakota was bone-weary, but he would not rest until he had found Breanna. "Let's go," he said wearily. "If today brings no success, I may consider going to the authorities as you suggested, John. Today the messenger that we sent to see if she was with her brother should return."

***

Fielding Kenton stood at the door of the Duke of Clandannon's London house, waiting for someone to answer his knock. It took only moments for a butler to open the door and bow stiffly to Fielding.

"I am Lord Kenton to see His Grace," Fielding announced.

"Yes, my lord. I was told to take you to His Grace the moment you arrived."

Fielding was still puzzling over the strange letter he had received from the Duke. It had urged him to come here in all haste on a matter of the utmost urgency and delicacy.

As the butler announced him, Fielding stood in the presence of the Duke, still at a loss as to why he had been summoned. He did not like this man.

"Lord Kenton" the Duke said, coming across the room to meet him. "Thank you for responding so quickly. I am indeed glad that you are here."

"I came, your Grace, because you said in your note that it was urgent, though I have not the slightest notion why there should be any urgent business between the two of us. Pray enlighten me."

The Duke offered Fielding a chair, and then seated himself. "I have a story to tell you that you may find extraordinary. Four nights ago, while my sister and myself were coming home from the theater, a young woman dashed out in front of our carriage and my driver could not avoid hitting her. While she did not sustain any lasting injuries, she has lost most of her memory. She remembers only her first name and a few other details."

Fielding was puzzled. "I don't see what this has to do with me."

The Duke eyed the young man, wondering what connection he would have with Breanna, and why she should remember his name when she remembered little else. He intended to proceed cautiously in the event that this was the man Breanna had been fleeing from.

"Have you no notion of the woman I am speaking of?" Stephen asked, watching Fielding's eyes in case he should be untruthful.

"No, you have me totally confused."

"Let me ask you a few questions, so I might know where you stand in this matter."

Completely at a loss, Fielding nodded. "I would be glad to be of service to you, if I can"

"Have you a wife?"

"Of course."

"May I ask her name and have a brief description of her?"

"I don't see—”

"Please bear with me. This is important."

"Very well, my wife's name is Sophie, and she has brown hair and gray eyes."

Stephen breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad Breanna was not married to this man; he hoped she was not married to anyone. He frowned, wondering what the association could be between Breanna and the Earl of Kenton. "This may sound a little indelicate, but do you have a mistress residing in London?"

Fielding smiled. "Your Grace's question is in poor taste and somewhat rude."

"Even so, will you answer for me?"

Fielding smiled slightly. "No, I have no mistress here, or anywhere. Does that answer your question?"

Stephen frowned. If Breanna was neither wife nor mistress to Fielding, then who was she? "Can there be any other female in your life that is important to you?"

Fielding sat forward, lacing his fingers together. "Is it possible that you think the woman you hit is in some way connected with me? I can assure you that is not the case."

"How then do you account for the fact that yours is the only name she remembers from her past?"

Fielding shook his head. "I cannot imagine. Suppose we turn the tables and you tell me this woman's name and describe her to me."

Stephen was reluctant to reveal Breanna's name until he found out what the connection was between her and this man. "I find myself in a dilemma, Lord Kenton. You see, the lady feels that she was being pursued by someone. I hesitate to say her name, lest that someone was you."

"You said this happened four nights ago? It could not have been me pursuing her, I have not left Kenton these last three weeks."

Suddenly the golden eyes that Stephen gazed into reminded him of Breanna's. With hope in his heart, he formed his next question. "Do you know a woman who has golden eyes, very much like your own?"

"I... yes." He sprung to his feet, "Dear God, Breanna! Is the woman named Breanna?"

"Yes, she called herself Breanna. You do know her then?"

"Take me to her at once. She is my sister!"

***

Breanna's eyes were closed while she listened to Lady Mary read verses of poetry. When she heard a knock, Lady Mary laid her book aside and opened the door. Seeing her brother and a stranger standing in the hallway, her eyes were questioning.

"Mary," Stephen said in a whisper so Breanna would not overhear, "this is Lord Fielding Kenton. He's Breanna's brother."

Her face flooded with relief. "Oh, thank goodness. Breanna will be so pleased." Mary glanced back and saw that Breanna's eyes were closed. "She's resting now. Do you want to disturb her?"

"Yes, she has a right to see her brother," Stephen answered.

Fielding gently pushed Mary aside and moved over to the bed. His eyes were filled with misery as he saw the bandage about his sister's forehead and the bruises and scratches on her face.

Dropping down to his knees, he took his sister's hand in his. "Breanna, dear, it's me, Fielding. Wake up."

Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment golden eyes stared into golden eyes. At first her eyes were puzzled, then the light of recognition registered there. "Fielding?" She softly touched his face. "Is it really you?"

He laid her limp hand against his cheek. "I can assure you it is I, Breanna. What happened to bring you to such a circumstance?"

"I don't know, Fielding." She tried to sit up, but the pain in her head halted the movement. "I cannot remember."

"Where is your husband?" Fielding asked with anger in his voice.

Like a whirling pattern of bright lights, Breanna felt the room spinning around. As she clutched her brother's hand, the events of that horrible night unfolded before her eyes. She was not aware that she was sobbing as Fielding held her in his arms.

Lady Mary bent over her with a concerned look on her face, while the Duke stood by helplessly.

"Oh, Fielding, why did you make me marry him? Why?" she sobbed.

Fielding had been weighed down with guilt, and seeing his sister in such a state increased that feeling. "It's all my fault, Breanna. I will see that everything is put to rights." He rocked her back and forth. "Don't cry, honey, I'll take care of you from here on out. You'll go home with me, and Sophie will nurse you back to health."

***

John entered the sitting room to find Dakota standing at the window. When Dakota turned around, his face was a mask of frustration and misery. "There has still been no word, John. How can a woman disappear without anyone seeing her?"

"This just came by messenger. It's a note from her brother," John said, handing Dakota the sealed envelope.

Dakota ripped open the letter and began to read aloud.

“‘Sir, I have the obligation to inform you that my sister, Breanna, is well and in my custody—‘” Dakota glanced quickly up at John with relief flooding through his whole body. Happiness shone in his eyes as he shouted, "She has been found! She's alive!"

John moved to Dakota's side and glanced at the letter. "Go on, read the letter" he urged.

"'Since through your neglect, my sister became injured, I will ask that you do not try to see her. However, I will call on you this afternoon, so you can give me an accounting of the events of the night my sister ran away from you.' It's signed, Lord Kenton," Dakota finished, crushing the letter in his fist. "What does he mean she was injured? Not he, or any man, can keep me away from Breanna. She is my wife."

John was thoughtful for a moment. "He says he will be calling on you. Since we don't know where to find him, we can do nothing but wait for him to come to us. We will just have to wait to find out about Breanna's condition. At least we know she is safe."

"Yes, she is safe," Dakota agreed, hiding his pain so John would not know how he felt inside. "I do not care if this man is Breanna's brother, he will not keep her from—"

Before Dakota could finish what he was saying, Mrs. Crowder entered the room. "Begging your pardon, my lord, but I thought you would want to know, Lord Kenton has asked to see you."

"Show him in," Dakota said, glancing at John. "We shall soon know where to find Breanna."

Fielding rushed into the room, his eyes going first to John, whom he recognized, and then to Dakota. "I assume you are my sister's husband?"

Dakota bowed, detesting the polite, gentlemanly customs that bound the English to false courtesy. What he really wanted to do was rip this man apart and make him tell him where to find Breanna. Instead he answered, "I have that honor. You said in your note that Breanna had been injured. Is she well? What happened?"

"No thanks to you, my sister will suffer no long-term injuries as the result of her accident."

"What accident?" Dakota demanded.

"She was hit by a carriage, but—"

Dakota grabbed Fielding by the shirtfront and jerked him forward. "Do not play games with me. Is Breanna all right?"

"Yes," Fielding answered, prying Dakota's hands loose and extracting himself from the iron grip. "I have come to tell you what I think of you. I have been called many things in my life, and most of them have been true, but I have never mistreated my wife, and I will not stand by while you mistreat my sister."

"For a man who sold his sister to another without knowing if she would be ill used, your concern is hypocritical." Dakota stared at the man with cold eyes. "I can see where you might think I have mistreated your sister, but it was all a misunderstanding. Breanna was mistaken in her assumption that I cared about Lady Rye."

"I don't know what your quarrel was with my sister, because she will not talk about it. I only know she has been hurt, and she needs love and understanding to heal. She apparently will get neither from you."