John stood up, ready to act before Dakota changed his mind. "You wait right here while I send for Sidney Cox, who is the best hairdresser in London."
***
Dakota observed the stranger in the mirror, with the neatly clipped hair, feeling as if he had lost his identity. Now he was just one of many, looking like the mass of humanity that occupied London.
"Dakota," John said, breaking into his thoughts. "Do you recall I told you that I made a wager with the Henley brothers?"
A muscle twitched next to Dakota's lips as he tried not to smile. "Yes, I believe you wanted to prove to them that you could turn a savage into a gentleman."
"Yes, well something like that. I believe the time is right to collect my wager. When that is accomplished, I will take you to meet your grandfather."
"Just where do you expect this meeting to take place so you can show off your successful attempt to civilize me, John?" This was asked with humor dancing in Dakota's eyes.
John realized that only a man with great inner strength could jest about the situation. "Now, this is the tricky part. As you know, the Henley brothers are not on the same social level as you and I, and it is most unseemly that we should invite them here."
Dakota's lips eased into a smile. "No, perish the thought. That would never do for it to become known that we associate with the likes of them."
John ignored the insinuated jab at his snobbery. "Would you consider coming to their club with me?"
Dakota picked up one of his prized books and thumbed through the pages. "I suppose that is the least I can do for you, after all you have done for me; however, this is the one and only time I will make a spectacle of myself for your gain."
John nodded, grinning. "This is the last time I ask it of you. It pains me to admit it, but I have used the fact that you feel indebted to me to obtain your consent."
Dakota laughed at his cousin's humor. "Indebted? Perhaps."
John rubbed his hands together, anticipating the conclusion of his wager. "This will be the easiest money I have ever earned."
"Are you saying it was easy to make me an Englishman?" Dakota's eyes were seeking and probing as if John's answer was important to him.
The teasing light left John's eyes, and he became serious. "It was easy because of the man you are. I have to be honest with you. When my uncle first assigned this task to me, I had little hope I would succeed. I taught you a few manners, took you to a tailor and boot maker, and changed your mode of dress. But you were already a gentleman by birth. I thought I would find an uneducated man once I reached America; instead, I found a man who had read more books than I will read in a lifetime. I found you to be truthful and honorable, and I am proud of our kinship." Thinking he was becoming too serious, John smiled. "You know, you could ruin me if you decided to be Dakota the Indian when we meet the Henley brothers."
Devilment danced in Dakota's eyes. "Yes, I could, could I not? That's something you should think about, John. If I turn savage on you, what will you do?"
***
As the brougham turned onto St. James Street, John reached forward and straightened Dakota's elaborately tied cravat. He quickly assessed his cousin, taking in the single-breasted black jacket which reached to Dakota's thighs. The black trousers hugged his legs, and were pulled taut by the strap that fit beneath the short, black boots. The green silk embroidered waistcoat gave just the right finishing touch, and brought out the color of Dakota's green eyes. Dakota's hair had been clipped in the latest style, his sideburns tapered almost to his chin, but Dakota had adamantly refused to grow a mustache; his Indian upbringing was still too much ingrained in his mind.
John's eyes gleamed with a light of triumph. "Damn if I don't think 111 pull this off, Dakota. Now remember, act aloof, and don't say anything until just the right moment."
Dakota's lips twitched in amusement. "I suppose it does not matter to you that I am to be paraded before your friends as your creation, your successful transformation of a savage into a gentleman?"
John rubbed his gloved hands together with glee. "First of all, you have to understand the Henley brothers are not my friends. They are simply acquaintances, whom I enjoy taking money from. Secondly, I promise you will not be paraded, because I intend to fleece the brothers with the utmost decorum. This will be my finest hour; it had better be your finest hour, too, Dakota."
They came to a halt before the Broadrick Club, one of the exclusive men's clubs in London, but not one John had ever frequented, or ever would after today. "Remember, Dakota, follow my lead," John instructed as the coachman jumped to the ground and whisked the door open.
Dakota stepped out, and John looked him over one last time. Yes, Dakota had an air of dignity about him that had nothing to do with his fashionable attire. He somehow represented a nobility that went beyond his rank, John thought, gaining a fresh insight into the inner man.
John could already feel the money warming his pocket. He clapped Dakota on the back. "Come, the brothers Henley will be waiting for us. Shall we honor the peasants with our presence?"
Dakota filled his lungs with air, pulled on his white gloves, and smiled at his cousin. "You are a pompous ass, John."
"Yes, admittedly," John acknowledged. "When one is light in the pocket, sometimes all he has to fall back on is his arrogance."
By now they had approached the doorman, who bowed, knowing from their mode of dress and their lofty airs that these men were of import. "Your names, sirs?" he asked politely.
"I am John Donegal, and this is Sir Geoffrey Spaulding. One of your members, Alec Henley, is expecting us."
The man checked his list before glancing back to John. "Sir, I have your name on my list"—he hesitated, feeling embarrassed—"but I do not show your companion."
"It's of no importance," John said, lazily tapping the man on the shoulder, and with practiced snobbery, stepped around him. "Don't bother announcing us. We shall find our own way in."
"What was that all about?" Dakota asked as they walked down the gold rug runner to the gaming room beyond.
"The memberships of these clubs are jealously guarded, and they strive to keep out undesirables. However, I am sure this one has never before had anyone of your rank cross the threshold. The club you will later join will consist of your peers, and not tradesmen."
Dakota's hid his amused smile. He would never grow accustomed to the class distinction and snobbery the English leveled at their fellow man. "Oh, I see. I keep forgetting how important I am." Suddenly his laughter rang out. "Would you consider Levi beneath me? He has sold animal skins; would he be considered a tradesman?"
"Well" John considered seriously, "he is a friend, and that goes beyond social classes . . . I suppose."
"You relieve my mind. I feared I would have to rid myself of him," Dakota said, his words laced with irony.
John spotted the Henley brothers at one of the gaming tables. When Tate Henley glanced up and saw him, he caught his brother's attention. Both men threw in their cards and advanced on John and Dakota.
"By the way, I am about to give you a demotion. I am going to introduce you as a baron. Get ready" he mumbled under his breath. In a louder voice, he remarked, "My dear Alec and Tate, how are you?"
"You are late. We had decided you weren't coming."
"Sorry for the tardiness, but you see, I ran into a friend of mine, and we got to talking—you know how it is—anyway, I decided to bring my friend along with me. I hope you don't mind."
Alec glanced at John's companion, who was looking down his very aristocratic nose at him. "Of course not, you are both welcome."
"Good. Now may I introduce you to my friend? Sir Geoffrey, may I present Alec and Tate Henley?" Dakota acknowledged the introduction with a slight nod.
John was definitely enjoying himself. "Alec and Tate, meet Sir Geoffrey Spaulding, the Baron of Cheltworthy."
Alec and Tate both looked at the stranger suspiciously at first, thinking this might be John's cousin. But when the gentleman
's eyes moved over them with bored indifference, they dismissed the possibility as ludicrous. This man was not John's cousin; this was a lord born to the manor.
"Where is your cousin?" Tate asked, glancing over John's shoulder.
"I thought you were bringing him," Alec said smugly.
"I regret to inform you gentlemen that my cousin is elsewise occupied."
Alec smiled. "What you mean is, you couldn't turn that savage into a gentleman, so you forfeit the wager."
"As you wish," John said airily.
"Come," Tate cajoled, the smile of triumph on his face. "Don't take it so hard. Let's have a drink, and toast our victory." He held up his hand, signaling to the servant that he wanted four brandies.
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.
Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) Page 9
