A Lucky Star

PROLOGUE 1878

PROLOGUE

1878“What are ye doin’ here? Ye’re no welcome in this hoos!”

Alistair McGregor peered through the front door of his croft at the finely dressed young man who stood on the threshold before him.

From inside the croft, Lord Hayworth, heir to a vast fortune in the South of England, could hear terrible moans from a woman wracked with pain.

“Please, Mr. McGregor – I saw the midwife arrive an hour earlier. Maureen has been brought to bed, has she not?”

“Aye, and a sorry state it be as well. What with her bein’ unmarried and the poor wee one she’s about to give birth to will be a boy – ”

“Please, don’t say the word,” cried Lord Hayworth, holding up his hand in dismay. “I know full well what I have done and that is why I am here this evening – to see if there is anything I can do.”

“Ye can divorce yer wife and marry our Maureen!” spat out Alistair, his fierce black eyes burning beneath two bushy eyebrows. “And if ye’re nay be here to tell her that you’ll be makin’ an honest woman of her, then ye’re not at all welcome.”

Alistair McGregor went to close the door, but Lord Hayworth placed his foot between it and the doorpost so it would not shut.

“Please, I beg you! Believe me – I care deeply for Maureen, but a divorce is completely out of the question. My father would disinherit me and then we would all be considerably worse off.”

“How can that be?” sneered Alistair, trying to force the door closed.

“I want to help. Let me come inside.”

Lord Hayworth held up a small leather pouch.

Instantly Alistair could tell that it contained money.

“I have brought this – ” he offered, shaking the bag of coins under the angry man’s nose.

The older man stared menacingly at Lord Hayworth for a full minute before sighing and opening the door to let him in.

“Very well, but if my daughter says she does nae want to see ye, then ye shall kindly leave – but first, I shall have that!”

Alistair snatched the pouch as it dangled from Lord Hayworth’s elegantly be-gloved hand and stuffed it inside his jacket before the Lord could change his mind.

Lord Hayworth was not a fool – he knew just how desperately poor the McGregor family was after that year’s disastrous harvest, and that the money he had just given to them was more than enough to make sure that they all had food in their bellies through the long winter months.

Lord Hayworth stepped inside the croft.

It was small but homely. There was just one main room with a range and fire burning brightly. On the range, a huge pan of water was simmering.

There was no sign of the midwife, but the dreadful moans from beyond the closed door led him to believe that there lay the room where Maureen was in confinement.

Mrs. McGregor hovered around the stove, throwing Lord Hayworth filthy looks. She firmly laid the blame for her daughter’s plight at his door.

A blood-curdling howl made everyone start.

“I must go to her.” Mrs. McGregor wiped her hands on her apron and hurried towards the closed door.

“Please tell her I am here,” pleaded Lord Hayworth, who stood ill at ease near the fire.

Mrs. McGregor curled her lip and turned the handle of the door.

Lord Hayworth could see the midwife, hovering at the end of the bed and, for a fleeting second, a tantalising glimpse of a mass of black curls against a white pillow.

“Maureen!” he called out. “I am here.”

“Keep yerself quiet if you don’t want to be shown the door!” hissed Alistair threateningly.

He was not offered a seat or refreshment. Instead Alistair watched his every move with a sharp eye.

After an hour the midwife emerged from the room to fetch the pan of boiling water.

“Is there any sign of the bairn?” Alistair asked her.

“Nay, none. There are complications – ”

“Are ye tellin’ me my daughter might die?”

The midwife was firm but unemotional.

“It will be well if ye prepare yerself for the worst,” she said, picking up the pan from the stove. “But Maureen is a strong lass – she may yet come through it. Now, will ye open the door for me?”

Alistair opened the door, cast a fearful look into the room and closed it behind her.

Whirling around, he strode over to Lord Hayworth.

“If anythin’ does happen to my daughter or the wee bairn, I’ll hold ye responsible. Is that clear?”

Lord Hayworth nodded.

He moved away towards the window.

Outside the wind was howling.

In the distance he could see a lantern. Squinting, he tried to make out what or who it was.

“So are ye happy with yerself?” exploded Alistair, who began to pace the room. “A fine wife in the South, but nay, that is nae enough for ye! It was an ill wind that blew ye to Dunsborough – the Lord knows why ye came to haunt me and my kin!”

“I was sent to oversee my father’s estates,” replied Lord Hayworth, looking away from the window.

He had given up trying to see who was approaching from a distance – it was far too black outside.

“I could not have seen how events would unfold.”

“Aye, but ye did not turn a blind eye to my pretty Maureen, did ye? I thought the old days were long gone where the Laird had any maid who took his fancy without havin’ to face the consequences. I can see I was wrong!”

He cast another withering look at Lord Hayworth who was, by now, feeling quite ashamed of himself.

What the man said was true – he had not given it a second thought when he had seduced McGregor’s beautiful daughter. To him, she had been a pleasant diversion in an otherwise Godforsaken place.

Maureen, with her flowing mass of dark hair, pale green eyes and a ready smile, had charmed him from the first day he had seen her by the brae, leading a goat back to the family’s croft.

How delightful he had thought her.

And only a few months later after an amusing and delicious game of cat and mouse, she finally gave herself to him in the heather, clasping him to her soft bosom and sighing in ecstasy.

Lord Hayworth hung his head as he recalled all the words he had not meant that had tumbled so easily from his lips.

He said he did not love his wife and that he longed to escape.

He promised her marriage and then, after she had fulfilled her part of the bargain, he had not.

A tremendous cry erupted from behind the closed door, followed by the yelping of a newborn child.

He waited for the door to open.

At last an exhausted Mrs. McGregor emerged.

“It’s a bonny girl,” she said wearily, “and Maureen will recover. We almost lost her, but the girl has strength.”

“Thank the Lord!” cried out Alistair, lifting his eyes upwards. “And now, me and ye have some serious matters to discuss. Dinnae think that ye can buy us all off with one heavy purse!”

“I have already told you – it is impossible. I cannot marry your daughter.”

“And I say, ye will, if I have to put my gun to yer head and see to it meself!”

Insistent knocking at the door interrupted his flow. When there was no answer, the knocking came again even harder and louder.

“Are you going to answer that?” asked Lord Hayworth, grateful of the interruption.

Alistair grunted and then went to the door. Pulling it ajar, he was stunned to see a young boy standing there.

“What’s yer business?” he demanded sharply.

Outside the wind was screeching and he could only just about make out the boy’s face thanks to the lantern that he carried above his head.

“Is my – Lord Hayworth – inside?”

“And ye are?”

“His younger brother.”

Alistair pulled open the door and let the boy in.

“Elliot!” cried Lord Hayworth. “What the devil are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay at The Hall?”

“One of the servants told me what was going on,” he answered grimly. “They dono’ treat me like a child –”

“This is none of your concern. Now go back to The Hall and wait for me.”

He pulled himself up to his full height and looked his brother in the eye.

“I know what is happening and I am here to rescue the honour of our family and McGregor’s daughter.”

Lord Hayworth’s elegant features then broke into a patronising grin.

“What nonsense is this, boy? You – come to my rescue? How, pray, do you think you might do that?”

“Mr. McGregor,” said Elliot firmly, “my family has wronged yours and so I am here to ask your permission to marry your daughter.”

Alistair burst out laughing and threw his head back.

“Why wee laddy! You canna be more than fifteen! But I’ll say this for ye – ye are more of a man than this ne’er-do-well, here – boy or no!”

“Elliot, go home now and stop being so ridiculous,” sneered Lord Hayworth.

“At least the wee boy has a shred of decency in his body!” shouted Alistair furiously. “Now, are you goin’ to divorce that wife of yours and make a honest woman of my daughter – or am I going to have to kill ye?”

From the look on his face, Lord Hayworth realised that these were not idle words. He hung his head miserably and examined the fine stitching on his gloves.

“Well?” demanded Alistair.

“It is impossible – I cannot.”

“Then, ye know the consequences!”

McGregor strode over to his rifle that hung on the wall and took it down. Slipping off the catch, he pointed it straight into Lord Hayworth’s face.

“Then, ye leave me no choice – ” he hissed.

“Stop!” shouted Elliot, throwing himself in front of his brother, pushing the muzzle of the gun away. “I will marry Maureen! I am almost sixteen! But for pity’s sake, spare my brother!”

Alistair eyed the boy and slowly lowered the rifle.

“Ye’re a fine wee laddy and I do admire yer spirit. Hayworth, I will let ye go on condition the boy marries my Maureen as soon as she is recovered. Will ye shake on it?”

Lord Hayworth went as white as a sheet.

For all his fine manners and airs, he was a coward. He could not speak, but simply held out his leather-gloved hand to McGregor.

Taking it, he shook it and then turned his back on both Elliot and his brother.

“Ye’d better come in and meet her,” he said to the boy in a matter-of-fact fashion. “You will wantin’ to see the bairn that will become yer ain.”

“You have done a noble thing, Elliot,” intoned Lord Hayworth, as the boy was led to the bedroom door. “I shall not forget it.”