to having Serena’s new warmth nearby. Still, Lady Askey had put him in a place of honor, just to her right, and that made him feel appreciated.
Malcolm looked with confusion at all of the glasses and pieces of cutlery. A bowl of soup was placed before him, and he had to hunt among the spoons for what looked like a proper utensil.
Earlington spread his linen napkin across his lap. “Tell me, Mr. Slayter, did you recognize any of the men who attacked you?”
“No, sir. But I did recognize a few of the tartans. There were two MacDonnels, a Ferguson, and a McInnes, but the others I couldna make out. I only wish I knew what they were doing so far from the rest of the Games.”
“I know what they were doing,” said Earlington, his veal soup untouched. “They were preparing for war.”
Serena went cold. “War?”
“I’m afraid so. Negotiations have been faltering. Each side remains entrenched in its positions. The Scots are suing for various freedoms, chief among them to maintain their own judicial system, and a complete liberation from taxation.”
Askey sighed. “That’s preposterous. No taxation? How do they expect to support the cost of the military, the monarchy? All British subjects must pay taxes. And the less said about their own judicial system, the better. Those clans you mentioned are a monarchy unto themselves, some of them no better than bands of street toughs. What laws can exist among such people?”
Malcolm rubbed the brand on the back of his hand, which he kept hidden under the table. “I canna argue with that.”
“It is to the Scots’ benefit to live as free men under a single British Crown, rather than under chiefs who impose their own laws.”
“But there’s more to their quarrel,” Earlington continued. “They want a republic. They want to secede from Great Britain altogether.”
“You mean like America?” Askey cried.
“That is what I’m hearing.”
“I don’t understand it,” Rachel added. “Scotland has been part of Great Britain for over a hundred years. Why should they want to succeed now?”
“Secede, my dear,” her husband corrected, with a light chuckle. “But the question is a valid one. Why separation? Why now? And for the love of God, how? Scotland is, as far as nations go, the poor relation. She’ll never make it on her own.”
Earlington shook his head. “It is a small minority that disagrees with you, but a vocal one. The Scots have moved beyond the negotiation stage. Bills are plastered all over Glasgow rallying support for a Scottish government. The Scots are acquiring weapons, provisions. It appears as though they are establishing a more aggressive posture.”
“Why can’t the Scots be more like the Welsh?” Serena quipped, the music in her voice trying to lighten the mood. “You never hear a peep from the Welsh.”
Malcolm chuckled and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Scots have never been supple at the knee. Even within our own clans, it is difficult for us to be servile.” He turned to Ambassador Marsh. “I must ask ye—are there any terms under which the Prince Regent will allow a self-governing Scottish nation? Is there any chance at all that Scotland may in fact become independent?”
Earlington responded without pause. “None. The British Empire will not be divided. The Prince Regent has been very clear on this point—he will not have his government subverted. He has told me in no uncertain terms that he will suppress the insurrection, even if he must obliterate his Scottish subjects to do it.”
Silence filled the room as they looked around the room at one another.
Askey set down his glass, and his voice became grave. “Si vis pacem, para bellum. If you seek peace, prepare for war.”
Earlington spoke in soft, even tones and measured words. “I’m afraid so. My desire and my most fervent wish, therefore, is for the Scots to crave peace as much as I do.”
Being the only Scotsman in the room, Malcolm felt the weight of the outcome of this conflict shift to his own kind.
“Sir, if I may say so, the common folk are no’ in favor of war. It’s true there’s a new patriotism among the Scots. But they’re content to sing songs in the pubs and tell old stories. They don’t want to be disloyal to the Crown. But they must do what the chiefs tell them to.”
Earlington nodded. “I know that. The Council won’t listen to reason, preferring an ill-conceived rebellion to any reconciliation. But I am not unmindful of the truth of their grievances. I know