Free Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) by Constance O'Banyon

bright with enthusiasm. "Think of it, you have but to say what you want, and it is to be given you."
    "What I want is to go home."
    His lips twitched nervously. "Hardly a request that will be granted. I hope you will not embarrass me by being discourteous to the Marquess and ungrateful for all his generosity. Consider our family honor before you say anything you may later regret."
    "Our family has no honor" she stated flatly.
    Fielding's face whitened. "Make no mistake about it, Breanna, the Kenton name is still respected in England, which was one of the reasons the Marquess chose you for his grandson's bride. If he is displeased with you, he could still find another to take your place."
    Breanna understood Fielding's concern. He was afraid that she would displease the Marquess and he would send her packing and insist that Fielding return the money that had been advanced to him. "Have no worry on my account. As distasteful as it is, I shall honor your agreement. But I want it understood that I do this for Sophie and the children. My only hope is that you will not squander the thirty pieces of silver you received for selling your own sister."
    His eyes sparked with anger. "You go too far, Breanna. Remember this one thing: If the Marquess tosses you out on your ear, don't come crying to me."
    She sighed heavily, knowing it was useless to argue with Fielding. She remembered how her brother had been her childhood hero—how she had always admired and loved him then. Her respect for him had lessened as she had grown older and become aware of his selfishness. Too many times she had seen Sophie with tears in her eyes because of Fielding's shortcomings as a husband and provider.
    "I can promise you this, Fielding, I will never again live with you —not after what you have done to me."
    His features were grim. "Now we begin to understand one another. Listen to me, because we are almost there, and I have a few things that I want to explain to you."
    She stared straight ahead. "Such as?"
    "I want to tell you something about the old Marquess so you will have some notion of the kind of man you will be dealing with."
    "I am not marrying the grandfather."
    "No, but you may as well know he is the one who will be ruling your life until you give him a great-grandson."
    She became resigned. "All right, Fielding, tell me about the formidable Marquess of Weatherford."
    "First of all, he is not a well man, and from what I understand, he is confined to his room most of the time. He has been a recluse for some years, and it is said that the driving ambition in his life is to have an heir to survive him. Give him that heir, Breanna, and he will deny you nothing."
    "Have you ever met him?"
    "No. He sees no one." Fielding reached for Breanna's hand, but she jerked it away from him. With sadness etched on his face, he realized that he probably merited his sister's scorn. "As you wish, Breanna. Perhaps the time will come when you will look on me with a little more tolerance."
    Before she could answer, the coach turned through an iron gateway which led to a circular, tree-lined driveway. In a flurry of activity, the carriage door was wrenched open and several liveried servants lined the steps leading to the huge double doors. A footman bowed before Breanna and offered his arm. "I am instructed to welcome you, my lady," he said with a warm smile of greeting.
    After Breanna stepped to the ground, she noticed that her brother made no attempt to follow suit. Her eyes were wide and questioning when she looked into his.
    "One of the Marquess's stipulations was that I was not to accompany you any further than the front door. You see how it is, Breanna?"
    Suddenly, she felt more alone and frightened than she ever had in her life. Even though she was angry with her brother, his presence had lent her a degree of comfort. "Will you abandon me completely?" she asked, shivering at the thought of facing the Marquess alone.
    "I must," he replied, leaning forward and