A Lucky Star Read online

  A LUCKY STAR

  BARBARA CARTLAND

  www.barbaracartland.com

  Copyright © 2011 by Cartland Promotions

  First published on the internet in March 2011

  ISBNs

  978-1-908411-77-8 Epub

  978-1-908411-78-5 Prc

  The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval, without the prior permission in writing from the publisher.

  eBook conversion by M-Y Books

  A LUCKY STAR

  Anthea tried to stay calm as she dressed, but then, totally unable to contain herself, as soon as she entered the Saloon, she blurted out to Linette that she had heard from the Earl.

  “Papa telegraphed you and not me?” she pouted.

  “I am certain he meant the telegram for both of us,” she replied hastily.

  “That will be it,” nodded Linette, satisfied that she was right.

  “I look forward to becoming better acquainted with your father,” volunteered Anthea, as casually as she could. “He seems such an interesting gentleman, even if he is a bit of a mystery.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I mean the fact that he has never remarried. When did you say your mother died?”

  “Oh, I was only two. Mama miscarried and it was later that she succumbed to an internal infection. Papa does not like to talk about it.”

  “That is so tragic, it must have been awful for him,” persisted Anthea. “Eighteen years is a long time for him to be on his own. Have there never been ladies in his life?”

  THE BARBARA CARTLAND PINK COLLECTION

  Barbara Cartland was the most prolific bestselling author in the history of the world. She was frequently in the Guinness Book of Records for writing more books in a year than any other living author. In fact her most amazing literary feat was when her publishers asked for more Barbara Cartland romances, she doubled her output from 10 books a year to over 20 books a year, when she was 77.

  She went on writing continuously at this rate for 20 years and wrote her last book at the age of 97, thus completing 400 books between the ages of 77 and 97.

  Her publishers finally could not keep up with this phenomenal output, so at her death she left 160 unpublished manuscripts, something again that no other author has ever achieved.

  Now the exciting news is that these 160 original unpublished Barbara Cartland books are ready for publication and they will be published by Barbaracartland.com exclusively on the internet, as the web is the best possible way to reach so many Barbara Cartland readers around the world.

  The 160 books will be published monthly and will be numbered in sequence.

  The series is called the Pink Collection as a tribute to Barbara Cartland whose favourite colour was pink and it became very much her trademark over the years.

  The Barbara Cartland Pink Collection is published only on the internet. Log on to www.barbaracartland.com to find out how you can purchase the books monthly as they are published, and take out a subscription that will ensure that all subsequent editions are delivered to you by mail order to your home.

  If you do not have access to a computer you can write for information about the Pink Collection to the following address :

  BarbaraCartland.com

  Camfield Place

  Hatfield

  Hertfordshire

  AL9 6JE

  United Kingdom

  Telephone: +44 1707 642629

  Fax: +44 1707 663041

  Titles in this series

  These titles are currently available for download. For more information please see the Where to buy page at the end of this book.

  The Cross Of Love

  Love In The Highlands

  Love Finds The Way

  The Castle Of Love

  Love Is Triumphant

  Stars In The Sky

  The Ship Of Love

  A Dangerous Disguise

  Love Became Theirs

  Love Drives In

  Sailing To Love

  The Star Of Love

  Music Is The Soul Of Love

  Love In The East

  Theirs To Eternity

  A Paradise On Earth

  Love Wins In Berlin

  In Search Of Love

  Love Rescues Rosanna

  A Heart In Heaven

  The House Of Happiness

  Royalty Defeated By Love

  The White Witch

  They Sought Love

  Love Is The Reason For Living

  They Found Their Way To Heaven

  Learning To Love

  Journey To Happiness

  A Kiss In The Desert

  The Heart Of Love

  The Richness Of Love

  For Ever And Ever

  An Unexpected Love

  Saved By An Angel

  Touching The Stars

  Seeking Love

  Journey To Love

  The Importance Of Love

  Love By The Lake

  A Dream Come True

  The King Without A Heart

  The Waters Of Love

  Danger To The Duke

  A Perfect Way To Heaven

  Follow Your Heart

  In Hiding

  Rivals For Love

  A Kiss From The Heart

  Lovers In London

  This Way To Heaven

  A Princess Prays

  Mine For Ever

  The Earl’s Revenge

  Love At The Tower

  Ruled By Love

  Love Came From Heaven

  Love And Apollo

  The Keys Of Love

  A Castle Of Dreams

  A Battle Of Brains

  A Change Of Hearts

  It Is Love

  The Triumph Of Love

  Wanted – A Royal Wife

  A Kiss Of Love

  To Heaven With Love

  Pray For Love

  The Marquis Is Trapped

  Hide And Seek For Love

  Hiding from Love

  A Teacher Of Love

  Money Or Love

  The Revelation Is Love

  The Tree Of Love

  The Magnificent Marquis

  The Castle

  The Gates of Paradise

  A Lucky Star

  THE LATE DAME BARBARA CARTLAND

  Barbara Cartland, who sadly died in May 2000 at the grand age of ninety eight, remains one of the world’s most famous romantic novelists. With worldwide sales of over one billion, her outstanding 723 books have been translated into thirty six different languages, to be enjoyed by readers of romance globally.

  Writing her first book ‘Jigsaw’ at the age of 21, Barbara became an immediate bestseller. Building upon this initial success, she wrote continuously throughout her life, producing bestsellers for an astonishing 76 years. In addition to Barbara Cartland’s legion of fans in the UK and across Europe, her books have always been immensely popular in the USA. In 1976 she achieved the unprecedented feat of having books at numbers 1 & 2 in the prestigious B. Dalton Bookseller bestsellers list.

  Although she is often referred to as the ‘Queen of Romance’, Barbara Cartland also wrote several historical biographies, six autobiographies and numerous theatrical plays as well as books on life, love, health and cookery. Becoming one of Britain's most popular media personali
ties and dressed in her trademark pink, Barbara spoke on radio and television about social and political issues, as well as making many public appearances.

  In 1991 she became a Dame of the Order of the British Empire for her contribution to literature and her work for humanitarian and charitable causes.

  Known for her glamour, style, and vitality Barbara Cartland became a legend in her own lifetime. Best remembered for her wonderful romantic novels and loved by millions of readers worldwide, her books remain treasured for their heroic heroes, plucky heroines and traditional values. But above all, it was Barbara Cartland’s overriding belief in the positive power of love to help, heal and improve the quality of life for everyone that made her truly unique.

  “I believe in fate rather than luck and so many women over the years have said to me ‘I am down on my luck’ or ‘fate has been so cruel to me’. I have always replied ‘there is so much we can all do to make our own fate work for us – all you have to do is to be really positive and determined about yourself and your life and you will find that mysteriously so much of what you want will unexpectedly come to you’.”

  Barbara Cartland

  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 streng
th.”

  “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!”