Chapter One
LateSpring,1691
Lord Protector and new Secretary of Scotland hung his head when his secretary bowed and announced the arrival of William Bentinck, the Earl of Portland and King William’s lackey.
The man’s appearance in Scotland did not bode well – only the most dire of reasons would bring the king’s most diplomatic earl to Edinburgh.
Viscount John Dalrymple had recently been appointed Secretary of State of Scotland, and with it came a slew of egregious responsibilities, many of which soured his stomach over the recent fight over the Scottish crown. Now the king’s cohort was at his door, a Dutch man who had the opportune luck of being William of Orange’s closest friend when William managed to usurp King James and assumed the throne. John and the earl were near in age, and John was in the unenviable position of bowing to a Hanover Earl because of the man’s absurd fortune of being friends with the man who would be king – a man with more power and prestige than John had with long-term employ for the Crown.
Life was just not fair. Now he had to entertain and probably take orders from a lackey who bore his peerage like a fancy cloak for others to admire.
Not fair.
Bentinck entered the study, his blue velvet coat well cut and his dark brown hair long and loose, curling around his tight face. John scratched his hairline where his annoyingly heavy white wig met his forehead and he wondered when this man might feel the need to wear a proper wig. His smooth, loose curls were an insult to his position.
Truly, the man was insufferable.
“Lord Protector.” Bentinck beamed as he entered and dipped his head to John, who bowed deeply at the earl’s boorish entrance.
“Lord Portland. What brings ye to Edinburgh this fine summer day?”
The man’s deep-set, hooded eyes scanned the study before moving to the chair. Lord Portland’s toothy smile did not quite reach those studious eyes, and John understood the king’s man was in Scotland for something more significant than a social call.
John had not made it to the position of Secretary of State and Lord Protector of the Highlands by misreading situations.
The king was outraged that many Highland clans still supported James Stuart who had abdicated the throne, and not James’s daughter or William, her husband, who presently sat on the throne as Queen and King. William was working with allied clans, the Campbells most significantly, to help encourage rogue Highland clans such as the MacDonalds to sign the Oath of Allegiance. Thus far, they had been unsuccessful.
The Earl of Portland settled into the padded chair across from John’s tidy desk and crossed one woolen-hosed leg over his other knee so that his black buckled shoe caught in the early morning light. Brushing off an imagined speck of dust from the side of his shoe, Bentinck huffed out a breath.
“The king is none too pleased ye haven’t found the letter, John.”
Bentinck’s lightly accented voice carried the weight of the crown behind it, and his face shifted to match the displeasure in his voice. Gathering his wits about him, John strode to his desk and sat in his own chair to face Lord Portland.
“The Earl of Breadalbane has assured me that he is finding the letter as we speak.”
While his words might have sounded supportive of John Campbell of Breadalbane, his mind spoke the truth about his real feelings toward the man.
Feckin’ Slippery John. Why hasn’t he done his job yet and found this silly letter?
Sweat formed under Dalrymple’s wig, and he had to force himself to fold his hands on his desk. He was not going to let Portland know that this meeting unsettled him.
“King William requested that I convince you and your Highlanders of the importance of this letter. Perchance you might convey that importance to your earl.”
Lumping John in with the wild Highlanders. Of course, Lord Portland would do that. John picked at his thumbnail.
“I have assurances that he is on track to find the letter and might even have it in his position already.”
Portland would not know, so why not twist the truth to suit John’s needs?
Bentinck’s steady gaze remained fixed on John.
“The King wants added assurances. Ye will be held personally responsible if it’s not found.”
He paused and let those words permeate John, who readily understood his livelihood, nay his very life, hung in the balance if he did not find that letter.
Feck me,John cursed to himself.
“And he’s weary of these wars and conflicts and the general instability outside of any threat the letter might pose,” Bentinck continued, as if he had not just threatened John’s life. “He has decided to bring the clans to heel and they are not accepting the Oath. They are taking this Oath requirement lightly, waiting on the abdicated James to take action.”
