Secrets to Seducing a Scot (4 page)
Read Secrets to Seducing a Scot Online
Authors: Michelle Marcos
Though the long trip from London had been arduous, Serena and Earlington received a warm welcome when they arrived at Copperleaf Manor.
Their hosts, Lord and Lady Askey, were as pleasant and hospitable as Serena could expect. Though he was English by birth, Lord Askey’s family had held lands in Scotland for generations, and he spent a great deal of his time there. He loved Scotland and its people, but he was a loyalist and he advocated a unified Britain. Politically, he was the perfect man to host Commissioner Marsh, being so well liked among the Scots. And personally, he and his wife made every effort to ensure that Serena and her father felt at home.
Josiah Askey was a man of fifty whose graying hair seemed to have melted from the top of his head to the sides of his face. He had a jolly air to him, and when he smiled his eyes became little blue crescents. Comfortable living had given him a paunch, but he was yet a man of unbounded energy.
His first wife had died of the fever, but she had given him two daughters: Lady Georgina, who had married the year before to a young man of means in Dumfries, and Lady Zoe, who was only fourteen. Although Serena was homesick for London, Zoe’s youthful zest and irrepressible friendliness made the separation easier to bear.
Rachel Askey, his young wife, was only slightly older than Serena, but her May–December marriage seemed to have been made in heaven. Rachel Askey was a Scot from a noble family. She had a creamy complexion and strawberry freckles on her face that matched the rosy tones in her lovely hair. Recently delivered of an infant daughter, she was never seen without her nearby. She was bright in face and mind, and her kindness drew in the young Zoe, who embraced her as an older sister rather than as a stepmother. They were a warm family, and tried very hard to make Serena feel at home.
But home was back in London. Serena made every attempt to keep her chin up for the family’s benefit, but she was secretly very unhappy. Being away from the City—at the very height of the Season—was a misery. At this very hour, she’d probably be climbing into a carriage, en route to a ball. She’d be wearing her new cornflowerblue confection with her pearl necklace and her white silk gloves, and her hair would be done up
à la cascade
with blue ribbons interwoven through the curls. It was a fashion she was looking forward to showing off. Her styles were always talked about and emulated.
à la cascade
with blue ribbons interwoven through the curls. It was a fashion she was looking forward to showing off. Her styles were always talked about and emulated.
She’d be drinking champagne and dining on lobster, Cornish hens, and vegetables in heavy French sauces. She’d be surrounded by peers, politicians, and playwrights—men of ideas and influence—and ladies who drove the culture of the day. She’d attend the theater, Almack’s, museums. There’d be lawn tennis, picnics, card parties, and dancing. There’d be no end to her laughter and her discourse.
Until Scotland.
Zoe came in through the open drawing room door, munching on an apple. Her reddish brown hair streamed down her back. “The sun has come out. Would you like to go riding today?”
Writing
was what Serena really hungered to do, and the activity she missed the most. But she didn’t want to be a misery around the girl. “Certainly. Though I must warn you that I haven’t had a chance to buy a riding habit this season, so please don’t gasp in horror when you see me in last year’s style.”
was what Serena really hungered to do, and the activity she missed the most. But she didn’t want to be a misery around the girl. “Certainly. Though I must warn you that I haven’t had a chance to buy a riding habit this season, so please don’t gasp in horror when you see me in last year’s style.”
Zoe rolled her pretty brown eyes. “Once we leave the stable, it wouldn’t matter if you rode completely unclothed. There’s no one to see you for miles.”
Serena smiled, but there was no mirth behind it. She closed the book she was reading. “Zoe, I’m really grateful to your father and stepmother for sharing their home with us. And staying in Fort Augustus has been most restful. But sometimes I wonder if it doesn’t get rather lonely here for you. Is there no set to which you belong, no place for you to enjoy the company of others your own age?”
Zoe sat next to Serena. “Of course! Sometimes I’ll drive down to Dumfries and stay with my sister and her husband. Or we’ll drive to Glasgow and stay with my cousins. They’ve just had their coming out.”
Serena blinked, trying to phrase her question better. “What I mean is, is there anything for you to do that doesn’t require two days’ journey and several changes of horses? A party or ball to go to, at least once a week? Somewhere where there’s food and entertainment, and lots and lots of people? Where you can see what ladies and gentlemen are wearing, and where you can show off your latest design, too? A place where people of all sorts get together, and they talk about things that matter … or things that matter just to them? Where people whisper their dastardly little secrets, and other people whisper them over to the next person? Fun places like that?”
“Well,” Zoe began, “in the fall, when we return to
York, we reunite with our friends by organizing an autumn ball.”
York, we reunite with our friends by organizing an autumn ball.”
“In the fall,” Serena repeated with an edge to her voice. “And meanwhile? What will you do here in Scotland during these interminable summer months?”
“Um … well, there will be the Saint Swithin’s Day Festival in Invergarry next month. That’s a great deal of fun, with lots of people. The Highland Games will be held then … apple juggling, caber tossing, and beer-cask rolling. And you can get all sorts of delicious sweets at the festival. That is, of course, provided there’s no uprising to cancel it.”
Next month? Serena smoothed out an invisible wrinkle in her new silk dress. There was no way she was going to endure another month without the distraction of a social gathering. It was bad enough that she was far removed from the thrilling bustle of London, but to have to wait another month for the relative excitement of apple throwing, caber eating, and beer bathing was just too much to endure. She had to do something about this.
She had to do something
now.
now.
“’Tis an outrage!” Guinnein Kinross bolted out of his seat around the negotiating table, leaving the other three men feeling the weight of his displeasure.
Brandubh McCullough lowered his head pensively and took a deep breath. “It won’t do to bring our feelings to the table, Kinross. Let the man speak.”
Kinross grumbled, but he returned to the table. The upstairs room at the Inverness courthouse was as cold as a larder, but the tensions around the table seemed to have raised the temperature. He sat back down at the table, sending ripples through the untouched whiskey in all four glasses.
“Forgive us our outbursts, Commissioner,” said Brandubh. “We Scots cannot stomach injustice.”
Earlington Marsh regarded Brandubh McCullough thoughtfully. He was the youngest of the three emissaries who had come to the table, but unlike the others in the Council, he had a cool head and a face absent of expression. A handsome man, too, with a full head of dark brown hair and intelligent navy eyes that seemed wise beyond his years. Just the sort of man he would expect to find at a negotiating table in a seat of government anywhere in the world.
“There is nothing to forgive, gentlemen,” Earlington said. “We are all here for the same reason—to find a
peaceful solution to the disharmony between our peoples. I for one am willing to do whatever it takes to ensure justice among all the king’s subjects.”
peaceful solution to the disharmony between our peoples. I for one am willing to do whatever it takes to ensure justice among all the king’s subjects.”
“Are ye now?” spat Kinross sarcastically, barely looking at Earlington.
“It seems to me, Commissioner,” began Hallyard Skene, “that Scotland fared better when she wasn’t among the king’s subjects.” Like Earlington, Skene was a man past fifty, but Skene seemed as if he had spent every one of those years in battle. Scars glowed whitely across his face, and he kept his arm tucked behind his blue, red, and green fly plaid, concealing the spot below his wrist where his hand was missing. “In the hundred years since the Acts of Union, Scotland has never been treated better than seventh-class citizens. We suffer like any nation with a remote seat of government. Our liberties are taken away one by one.”
“Aye,” echoed Kinross, nodding his ginger head. “And now more taxation, with no measure of relief or benefit ? ’Tis an outrage.”
Earlington was accustomed to dealing with politicians, men of words who utilized the subtle art of verbal manipulation. But these were not politicians. They were plain-speaking people who voiced their true sentiments loudly. Nevertheless, the three Scotsmen were powerful men with many holdings and much influence, and if they called for an armed insurrection against England, the people of Scotland would listen.
“Kinross, I can certainly understand your displeasure with the new taxes. Parliament wishes it were not necessary to levy taxes on the people. But war with Napoleon has nearly bankrupted the government. We must rebuild, and to do so requires that we temporarily assess a sixpence tax on grain and other foodstuffs.”
“It’s not just his displeasure you need to understand, Commissioner,” said Skene. “People are starving because of the tax. It’s gotten so that farmers can’t afford to eat what they’ve harvested. If they don’t meet the landlords’ percentage for the tax, they’ll be thrown off the land. Does Parliament mean to starve the Scots out of existence?”
“Not at all, Skene. This war has caused widespread suffering among all the king’s subjects. The tax affects England as well as Scotland.”
“But an Englishman earns more than a Scot,” he countered quickly. “And he receives all the services the tax supplies. Good roads, more schools … better courts.” He waved around at the room they were in, which was only slightly more dignified than a large barn.
“Aye,” affirmed Kinross. “If there is to be a tax on the Scottish people, then the revenue should benefit the Scottish people.”
“And don’t forget, Commissioner,” offered the young Brandubh, “an Englishman can sell his merchandise freely on the world market. A Scotsman is forbidden to trade directly, and so can’t earn a profit. If I wanted to trade my cattle with Germany, I’d have to first sell it to England at the going rate. Is that fair?”
It wasn’t, but Earlington couldn’t say so. “These are all valid concerns, and you have my word that I shall bring these matters to the attention of Parliament.”
“I’ll tell ye what would bring the attention of Parliament. Refusal to pay the tax.”
Earlington shook his head. “That is not a solution, Kinross. It would only embitter relations between our countries.”
“No more bitter than the sight of a mother unable to feed her children,” he retorted.
“No one wants that, Skene.” As he spoke, Earlington detected a faint ache in his chest, and a thread of fear snaked through him. He waited for the crushing pain that had signaled his last heart seizure, but thankfully the ache went away. He took a sip of the whiskey to calm his nerves. “The king desires only peace, and to ease the suffering of the Scottish people. I am empowered to set a minimum fixed profit on livestock traded outside the country. You will henceforth receive a premium on every head of cattle you bring to London for overseas commerce.”
“The tax, Commissioner,” reminded Brandubh, pounding the table with a finger. “We are here about the tax.”
Earlington nodded pensively. “The tax on the grain must stand.”
Brandubh snorted. “Ye see, gentlemen? I told you as much. The art of government is to make two-thirds of a nation pay all it possibly can for the benefit of the other third.”
Earlington lifted his head. “Those are the words of Voltaire, sir.”
“Aye,” replied the young man. “He was a great reformist.”
“Reformist? Some would say a rebel.”
“A rebel, aye. One on whose ideas stood the French Revolution. And the American. Perhaps the Scottish Revolution will be next.”
“Forgive me, McCullough. But are you threatening civil war?”
“And what if he is?” chimed in Kinross. “It’d be no less than yer king deserves.”
“And what do your people deserve?” asked Earlington. “The war with Napoleon has taken too many of your young fighting men already. Your remaining soldiers,
for such I must call them, are either too young or too old for battle.”
for such I must call them, are either too young or too old for battle.”
“No Scot exists who can’t fight for his country.”
“But will you deprive your women, who have already sacrificed their husbands and eldest sons to the war in France, of their fathers and youngest sons now? Be sensible, sir. Scotland has already lost too much.”
“And now yer king threatens to take even the little that remains to us,” said Brandubh. For the first time, Brandubh’s face transformed into an expression. And it was not the one that Earlington wanted to see. “Ye speak the language of diplomacy well, Commissioner Marsh. But we will not be mollified any longer by soft words hiding whips and chains. There will be no tax. We’ll not pay it.”
“Think what you’re saying, McCullough. You’re talking about treason.”
“Not treason, sir. Justice.” Brandubh stood, and the other men did, too. “Take this message to yer king. Scotland rejects the British monarch as a tyrant. Our country’s people will fight to the death to reclaim our honor and our rights.”
“My lords,” Earlington began in his most calming voice, “it is not in the best interest of your people to involve them in a revolution. They will be put down by dragoons. And there is too much misery already. Please sit down, and let us reason together.”
“No more talk. The time has come for action.”
Earlington stood and met his gaze squarely. “Then think on this as you are moved to action, McCullough. You—can’t—win. You don’t have the manpower, you don’t have the money, and you don’t have the weaponry.”
Brandubh’s face became one of resolute aggression.
“But one thing we do have, Commissioner—friends. France hates the English as much as we do. If they sided with the American colonials against ye, they’ll side with us against ye, too. And with the Americans, the French, the Irish, and the Scots against ye,
ye’re
the one, sir, who can’t win.”
“But one thing we do have, Commissioner—friends. France hates the English as much as we do. If they sided with the American colonials against ye, they’ll side with us against ye, too. And with the Americans, the French, the Irish, and the Scots against ye,
ye’re
the one, sir, who can’t win.”
Earlington sat down slowly, his knees weakening.
“And that is something, gentlemen,” said Kinross, “that I’ll drink to.” He picked up the untouched whiskey and poured it down his throat. The other two Scotsmen did the same, and walked out.
Earlington sat at the table, the three glasses empty before him. He couldn’t even contemplate what they had just threatened. Scotland, America, and France … all at once. These men weren’t after justice. Or even a revolution.
What they wanted was world war.
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