Secrets to Seducing a Scot

THREE

“Scotland?” Serena repeated incredulously. “But there’s nothing in Scotland except sheep and cows.”

Earlington suppressed a chuckle as he poured the tea. “Serena … Scotland is an important part of Great Britain, and has very much to do with what makes Britain so great in the first place.”

She screwed up her shoulders. “I still don’t understand why you must be sent there.”

Earlington spoke with the even tones and measured words that were his hallmark. “War with France has depleted Britain’s treasury. In order to keep the country running, Parliament has had to impose yet another tax upon the people. But the Scots have complained, declaring that the additional tax is putting too great a strain on an already overburdened populace. Parliament heard their grievances, but has remained unmoved. Now there is widespread unrest in Scotland. The Prince Regent has asked me to relieve Anglo-Scottish tensions by keeping the rumblings from turning into outright rebellion.”

“But why must you go?” she asked, taking the cup of honeyed China tea. “What about your health? You shouldn’t even be traveling such a great distance, let alone embarking on such a delicate and worrisome assignment. Why can’t they send someone else?”

“Serena, you know better than that. When your Prince asks you to go, you must obey. Quite frankly, I’m honored that he asked me. It shows that the Privy Council still has faith in my abilities.”

Serena read the regret in his face. She reached out and covered his hand with her own.

“I have faith in you, Father. And if the sheep and cows are in revolt, I know that you will help them see reason.”

Earlington chuckled as he brought the steaming cup to his lips. “My dear child, I do hope you’ll behave yourself once you settle in.”

Settle in. Serena set down her teacup, a worried look marring her forehead. “I’ve been wondering about that, Father. While you’re busy talking sense to the Scots, what exactly will I be doing?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you please. Scotland is a beautiful country filled with many lovely landscapes.”

“And after I’ve toured the surrounding countryside, what then?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, here in London, I have my friends and my set. I shall miss them terribly.”

“You are the most charming and delightful creature on God’s good earth, with an innate flair for popularity. I’m certain that in no time you will make all new friends.”

“Yes, but that will take some time. What shall I do in the interim?”

“You’ll have your column to keep you occupied. You can still write it from up there.”

She rose from the upholstered settee. “And write about whom? There is no Society in the Highlands, no social set as there is here in London. Who would want to read about Scotland? It’s nothing in the middle of nowhere.”

Earlington sighed. “The people are largely simple folk, it’s true, but they have a wit and a warmth all their own. I’m certain you’ll like them once you get to know them. And not all the people are farmers and herders. There are many families who are well off, who live in homes very much like ours. We will be meeting many of them as well.”

Serena swung her gaze out of the window into the garden. The thought of trading the sparkle of London for the provincial Highlands depressed her. If she left London for any length of time, it might be the end of her column altogether. In no time, she could go from being among the “who’s who” to being the object of “who’s she?”

“I don’t want to go, Father. But I don’t want to stay here without you, either.” She chuckled at herself. “I want it both ways, don’t I?”

“Oh, poppet,” he said, standing beside her. “I would love to give you what makes you happy. But I can’t. Not this time.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “This will be a dull diplomatic mission. You really needn’t come. You can stay in London for the rest of the Season. I’ll write to—”

The thought of him being so ill and so far away strengthened her resolve. “No, I won’t hear of it. My place is with you. We go together.”

Her father kissed her on the forehead. “It should only be for a fortnight. A month at the very most. We leave in the morning.” Her father strode out of the morning room.

It wouldn’t be so bad, she told herself. For four weeks, she could live without the balls and parties, and the accolades that came from writing a popular Society column. For a single month, she could do without the visits and surreptitious kisses from her gentlemen friends. It would be almost effortless to trade violins for bagpipes, and roses for thistles.

Wouldn’t it?