Free Secrets to Seducing a Scot by Michelle Marcos Page A

sorry?”
    She shrugged. “Ye don’t send a lame collie to herd the sheep. Yet here ye are, a man with a sick heart who’s also sick at heart. Ye think ye’ve got something to prove, to the king and to yerself. I don’t know if ye failed in America … might be that the king failed ye. Perhaps ye’re the perfect man to send here if the king wanted to give the appearance of wanting peace.”
    His eyebrows drew together. “Are you saying that the Prince Regent wants me to fail in my commission?”
    “I’m saying that he doesna expect ye to succeed. And if ye fail, the fault will then be with us, not him. Or ye.”
    Earlington’s eyes danced around about the floor as he pondered the possibility. Could it be that this woman suspected a truth he didn’t dare to believe? He knew that even now, troops gathered in the north of England to prepare for battling the insurrection. In case the talks failed, the general had told him. Maybe military action was being planned not in case he failed, but after it.
    Earlington had wondered why he’d been chosen for this diplomatic mission. His failure in the colonies seven years ago distressed him greatly, and the heart seizure he suffered after his return had made him gravely ill. Parliament had been sympathetic, but he thought he might never be asked to return to foreign service. Until a few months ago, when trouble in Scotland started to brew.
    The government could have sent anyone. The ambassador
to Russia was available. So was the ambassador to Austria. Why, then, had they asked him to return to the service?
    He hadn’t questioned it. In truth, he had been so overjoyed at the opportunity to redeem himself that he hadn’t bothered to ask why they would consider him. Yet even this woman, a household servant he didn’t know, could see that despite his lofty title he was merely a pawn in a chess game with a predetermined winner.
    His gaze flew back to the housekeeper’s eyes. “You amaze me, Mrs.—”
    A brief smile touched her eyes. “Ye can call me Gabby.”
    He grinned. The name hardly suited her, quiet as she had always been. She had been in his presence a number of times, and this was the first time she’d opened her mouth. Though when she did, a torrent of wisdom came pouring forth.
    “Gabby. I had never considered it from that standpoint. Please do me the honor of sitting with me awhile, so that we may talk some more.” He rose from his chair and motioned for her to sit.
    She looked aghast. “I canna sit doon! With all the work there is to do? I’m behind as a cow’s tail.”
    “Just for a moment. I would hear more of your perspectives.”
    She grabbed the tray from the table. “Nonsense. Idle words won’t make the pot boil.” Without another look back, she flitted out of the door.
    He smiled at her retreating back. Though she’d just shed light on a matter of international relations, she clearly held household matters in greater esteem.
    For the first time, disjointed concepts in his head began to fall into rightful place. Suddenly a plan of action formed in his thoughts. A cool breeze blew through
the open window as he stood by it, and he felt a surge of something coil through him. Strength.
    A knock at the door shook him from his thoughts. He hoped it was Gabby.
    “Come.”
    Serena entered. “Father, I really must protest.”
    “Not now, poppet,” he said. “There is an urgent matter I must attend to.”
    Malcolm appeared behind her and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb.
    “But Father, this is an urgent matter.”
    “What is it, Serena?”
    “I can’t abide this protector. Send him away.”
    Earlington went to the escritoire and scribbled something on a piece of paper. “I can’t do that, poppet.”
    “But he wants to sleep in the room next to mine!”
    “That’s precisely where I want him.”
    “Yes, but inside the very walls?”
    Malcolm cleared his throat. “I discovered a hidden passageway leading to Miss Marsh’s bedchamber.