Beloved Vows, Book 4: The Lost MacGreagor Books, #4

By Marti Talbott

Discovered in the ruins of a Castle in the early 1900s, The Lost MacGreagor Books are sequels to the Marblestone Mansion Scandalous Duchess Series.

 

The year was 1912, but rumors of a war in Europe was the last thing on Blair MacGreagor's mind. Engaged and hopelessly in love, she returned to America from the United Kingdom on the HMS Mauretania thinking only of planning her wedding. Yet, by the end of her first day on dry land, her whole world was turned upside down.

 

In 1713, in order to secure his passage to America, Scotland's Rory MacGreagor happily signed an indentured servant contract and boarded a tall ship. It wasn't long before he suspected it was a decision he would come to regret.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MT Creations
• Release date: Nov 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536548945

Marti Talbott

Marti Talbott (www.martitalbott.com) is the author of over 40 books, all of which are written without profanity and sex scenes. She lives in Seattle, is retired and has two children, five grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. The MacGreagor family saga begins with The Viking Series and continues in Marti Talbott’s Highlander’s Series, Marblestone Mansion, the Scandalous Duchess series, and ends with The Lost MacGreagor books. Her mystery books include Seattle Quake 9.2, Missing Heiress, Greed and a Mistress, The Locked Room, and The Dead Letters. Other books include The Promise and Broken Pledge.

Book preview

Beloved Vows

Book 4

(The Lost MacGreagor Books)

By

Marti Talbott

© 2016

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

Missing Heiress

Book 1

CHAPTER 1

More Books

The year was 1912, but rumors of a war in Europe was the last thing on Blair MacGreagor’s mind. Engaged and hopelessly in love, she returned to America from the United Kingdom on the HMS Mauretania thinking only of planning her wedding. Yet, by the end of her first day on dry land, her whole world was turned upside down.

In 1713, in order to secure his passage to America, Scotland’s Rory MacGreagor happily signed an indentured servant contract and boarded a tall ship. It wasn’t long before he suspected it was a decision he would come to regret.

CHAPTER 1

EMILY TAYLOR PUSHED her utility cart down the hallway and wondered what it was like to die.

She hated her position as hotel maid in the posh Labrodine Hotel in downtown New York City, that was conveniently located near the train station. It paid more than her job in the shirt factory, but not that much more. The year before, she narrowly escaped the deadly 1911 shirt factory fire and having lived when so many others perished, thought she might be destined for something important in life. Working as a hotel maid was not what she had in mind. Of course, where she worked made little difference – if people knew the appalling past she so desperately kept hidden, securing and maintaining any job at all in New York City was highly unlikely.

The hotel proprietors had enough rules and regulations to fill a wash tub, all of which were slanted in favor of the establishment. Some rules, such as those forbidding thievery, went without saying, while others, such as having to purchase uniforms from the hotel, and then suffer endless weekly payments, were unkind at best. Her uniform consisted of a long-sleeved black blouse, an ankle length black taffeta skirt, a long white apron that had to be washed nightly, and a crisp white bow to wear atop her blonde hair. At least at the shirt factory, she could wear more comfortable clothes.

Foremost was the hotel’s proclamation, that she take all possible precaution not to cause a scandal that might tarnish the hotel’s unblemished reputation. Therefore, the attractive maids serviced the bottom floors, and the ones deemed less tempting to single and married men alike, worked higher up where the affluent enjoyed the larger and more expensively decorated rooms. Although she didn’t think so, Emily was prettier than most and had little chance of working any higher than the third floor. A pity it was too, for it was well known that the affluent were more likely to leave generous tips for the maids. The top floor offered a breathtaking view of the massive city, the Atlantic Ocean, and everything in between. She’d only been that high once and often thought to disobey and venture up a second time.

Alas, she needed the job and dared not take the chance of getting caught.

Several rooms had come vacant on the third floor that morning, and three were in near ruin. Emily had no patience for lazy, careless people. There were new cigarette burns on the furniture, water on the bathroom floors, and beds in such disarray as to demand a complete remake. The hotel’s policy, which was kept secret from the guests, demanded that the maids examine the sheets and change only those that most needed to be changed. So long as the bed coverings were pulled taught, none of the guests would be the wiser. The same pertained to the bathroom towels. If they looked clean, she was simply to hang them back up and straighten them. It was those two policies Emily found most repugnant, but she did as she was told just the same.

Hard work for little pay was not her only problem. Several of the maids were married to men who worked in the same hotel as ushers, doormen, bellhops, and kitchen help. Bellhop Freddie Hawthorn was married to a maid that worked on the top floor. Karen Hawthorn was desperately in love with her husband, an attachment Emily found unfathomable. He was a disgusting man with a perpetual sickening grin who thought himself entitled to whatever he wanted. Freddie had a habit of sneaking up behind her and grabbing Emily around the waist. Twice, it startled her so, she had to cover her mouth to keep from crying out and alarming the guests.

However, that morning she was ready for him. As soon as he grabbed her, she picked up a washrag soaked in ammonia, spun around and shoved it against his freshly ironed uniform jacket. The instant the repugnant smell reached his nostrils, his eyes bulged, he let go of her, and ran out of the room.

That was the end of that – or so she hoped.

With only one room left to clean, she opened the door, pushed her cart far enough inside to keep the door from closing, and turned up her nose at the overpowering smell of perfume. She hurried to the window, opened it and allowed the cool autumn breeze to filter in. The view from that window offered only a look at the tall buildings across the street and the bustle of automobiles, street cars and horse drawn carriages on the street below. The avenue was clogged with noisy traffic just as it always was that time of day.

That’s better, she muttered, tearing herself away from the window.

She made the bed without changing the sheets, emptied the trash, dusted the top of the dresser and the arms of the chairs, made certain nothing had been left in the closet, and then went to see about the bathroom. Emily was on her hands and knees mopping up the last of the water on the tile floor, when someone shoved the hotel room door open wide. Fearing guests had arrived before she finished, she hopped up, quickly straightened the front of her uniform and went to see who it was.

It was the last person she expected to see. Mrs. Hawthorn?

Wearing an identical uniform, Freddie’s wife marched into the room, plopped down on the freshly made bed, and folded her arms. How dare you?

Emily guessed she had come to complain about the ammonia smell on Freddie’s clothes, but asked anyway, How dare I what?

Freddie has finally confessed.

Confessed what?

Mrs. Hawthorn unfolded her arms and dismissively examined the chipped fingernails on her right hand. Come now, you know what.

I do not know. What did he tell you?

Mrs. Hawthorn stood up, walked to the door, turned around and hotly glared at Emily. It is you he sneaks off to see at night. Do not deny it, Emily Taylor, for I shall never believe you. I know your kind, always flirting and not caring whose husband you tempt. Stay away from Freddie. Do you hear me? Stay away!

He lies! Emily tried, but before she could protest further, Karen Hawthorn walked out, shoved the cart all the way into the room, and slammed the door. Emily’s heart was beating so fast she thought she might pass out. She forced herself to take a deep breath and when she thought she might cry, she took a vow not to give in to the impulse. Instead, she straightened the bed again, finished cleaning the room and pushed her cart into the hallway. She closed the room door, went down the hall to the maid’s quarters, stored her cart next to the others, and grabbed her coat.

Her day was finally over and she was glad of it.

Emily took the service elevator down and just as she was about to walk out of the building, the night manager took hold of her arm. Come with me, Miss Taylor, if you please.

Her heart sank. Mr. Peters did the hiring, the firing, and little else. Therefore, she knew she was about to lose her job. Instead of cowering, she let him know with a hot scowl that she did not appreciate the way he had ahold of her arm. He abruptly let go and led the way to the small office behind the lobby’s check-in counter. Emily was tempted not to follow, but at length she decided it was better just to get it over with. She walked into his office, located a chair to sit on and waited while he closed the door.

Mr. Peters reminded her of the picture of a lion she saw once in a book. His unmanageable bushy hair and beard framed his entire round face. His eyes slightly slanted toward his nose, his jowls sagged, and since he combed his mustache in opposite directions, the part was directly under his nose. He even had an abundance of hair on his arms, what she could see of them. Indeed, he reminded her of a lion, and any second now she expected him to roar.

He did not roar, but he might as well have. Mr. Peters bluntly got right to the point. "Miss Taylor, I find I am forced to terminate your employment. We cannot afford a scandal, particularly not your kind of scandal.

Terrified he had learned the awful truth about her past, Emily held her breath. What scandal might that be, Mr. Peters?

I am told you have been bedding Freddie Hawthorn. He is a married man, Miss Taylor, and such fraternization is strictly forbidden at this hotel. You know it, you know it very well.

Emily almost smiled. Oh, that.

Do you deny it?

Of course I deny it.

I expected you to. Nevertheless, his wife accuses you and Mr. Hawthorn confirmed her suspicions.

When you spoke to him, did he happen to smell like ammonia? she asked.

Miss Taylor, I am well aware of your quick wit, but my mind is made up. You are to be dismissed immediately.

She said not another word in her defense, listened as he tried to further justify his decision...to himself more than to her, and accepted the pay he handed her, minus what she still owed for the uniform. It amounted to all of four dollars and no letter of recommendation did he offer.

Of course, Mr. Peters continued, I might be willing to pay for services that have nothing to do with cleaning hotel rooms.

His hopeful expression was nauseating and this time she could not resist the impulse to smile. My dear Mr. Peters, what a tempting proposal. However, I’d sooner give my services to Freddie Hawthorn, and I cannot abide the very sight of the man. With that, she got up, stuffed the money in her pocket and stormed out.

Use the back entrance, she heard Mr. Peters shout behind her, but sixteen-year-old Emily Taylor no longer worked for him and was free to do whatever she liked. She spotted Karen Hawthorn standing near the service elevator with a smirk on her face, but Emily ignored her. Two bellhops waited to be needed near the hotel entrance and one of them was Freddie Hawthorn. She grinned and slowly sashayed up to him as though she might finally accept his advances. At first he did not seem to trust her, but when she wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled his mouth close to hers, he was convinced she wanted him after all.

He did not notice his wife starting toward the two of them, nor did he see it coming when Emily kicked him as hard as she could in the shin. Freddie cried out in pain, brought his knee up and began to hop backward.

Not caring who heard her, Emily shouted, Come near me again and I shall aim higher! She defiantly glared at the horrified manager, and when Emily noticed several newly arrived guests watching, she took a moment to smile and curtsy to the well-dressed ladies. You should know they do not change the sheets at this hotel. Emily left the shocked guests with their mouths agape, held her head high and walked right out the front door.

It was not until she was half a block down the street, before she stopped, leaned against the side of a building and took a forgotten breath. Her revenge was short and sweet, but it did not save her job. Now what was she to do? Four dollars wasn’t going to last very long. She might be able to sell a few things including the bow in her hair and the apron, but sell to whom? She knew very well all of the women living in her tenement building were as poor as she was. At least, if she dressed it up a little with a colorful sash or something, she could wear the uniform blouse and skirt when she went to apply for a new position – although she knew very well there were few positions to be had.

It seemed somehow cruel and thoughtless for people on the busy street to be smiling and laughing – those that were not angrily yelling at each other over the traffic snarl, that is. It was unusual for her, but just now, she liked the angry ones best. Emily sighed, made her way across the street, boarded the crowded trolley, and paid the nickel fair. She found a seat next to a window, stared out and mentally said goodbye to yet another chapter in her misery plagued life.

BLAIR MACGREAGOR WAS head-over-heels in love.

She proudly and excitedly stood next to David Steele at the railing of the top deck on the HMS Mauretania, with one hand around his arm and the other holding on to her tall hat, overly decorated with purple satin bows and white flowers. The autumn air was brisk enough to encourage a dark brown topcoat for him and a purple, fur trimmed cape for Blair. They stood amid dozens of other first class passengers and watched as the massive ship slowly glided past the Statue of Liberty on its way into New York Harbor. The waterway was filled with ships of all shapes and sizes, some arriving and some heading in the opposite direction, including another great streamliner with hundreds of guests standing at its railings as well.

During the five-day voyage, her remarkable good looks, dark hair and blue eyes attracted the attention of every unmarried and married man alike aboard ship. Even so, she only had eyes for the handsome and debonair gentleman who just the day before pledged his love for her, and vowed to make her his wife. To her, David was the most handsome man among men, although he did appear to be much younger than his years. It was the smallest of disadvantages, she supposed, for he was as strong of mind as he was of body. His hair, sideburns and beard were neatly trimmed and his mustache was not nearly as bushy as most men liked them. He was smartly dressed in dark trousers, a matching jacket over his waistcoat and a white shirt adorned with a black bow tie. Occasionally, he tipped his tall black hat to a passing lady and Blair admired his attention to that sort of thing.

His was not a proposal of the kind she often read about in books, but instead a mutual understanding. At first David decreed that a union between them was quite impossible, but his hesitation was set aside as soon as they declared their love for each other.

Blair first met him on the voyage to London, at which time he pretended to be a lowly galley waiter. It was not until much later that she learned the truth. It was her father’s doing, for Cameron MacGreagor hired David to see to his daughter’s safety on both ocean crossings. She was, after all, a lady of wealth, and easy prey to men who hoped to gain her fortune through marriage. That was one worry she knew she did not have where David was concerned, although his position as a Pinkerton Agent likely did not pay much. Nor was she concerned about the dangers he faced. Indeed, she was too much in love to worry about anything at all.

She spent the morning seeing that her belongings were carefully packed in her trunks, including copies of letters written by a MacGreagor ancestor some two hundred years prior. Her second trunk was filled with gifts she bought in London for each member of her extensive Marblestone family. Therefore, she was free to fill her afternoon and early evening with nothing but her future husband.

On the voyage to England, Blair was excited when the massive HMS Mauretania’s engines, driven by gigantic four-blade propellers, began to belch black smoke out of the ship’s four funnels. Now she was even more excited when the belching smoke diminished, the churned up water behind the ship began to calm, and the constant noise lessened.

She watched but truly did not see the New York skyline increase in size. Her mind was on the perfect wedding instead. When shall we marry? she asked David. Soon, I hope, for I could not bear bein’ separated from you for very long.

I believe it is the bride who sets the date.

Aye, but if we wait very long, it shall be the dead of winter. Where shall we go on our honeymoon? She did not notice his slight frown.

I had not thought that far ahead.

Did I not tell you? Father sent a cable. He and Mother shall be on the dock to greet us.

No, you did not mention it.

Is it not the perfect occasion for you to ask for my hand?

His frown deepened. I had not thought of that either.

Blair laughed. I can think of nothin’ else.

He turned so he could look her in the eye, Blair, I cannot stay in New York. I too received a cable and I must leave for my office in Chicago tomorrow morning.

Oh.

They are expecting me to teach what I learned at Scotland Yard, you see.

She tried not to look too disappointed. Of course they are. Her eyes brightened. There is still time to ask the captain of this ship to marry us. That way, I can go to Chicago with you.

He turned back to face the railing. And deprive you of a fancy wedding? I would not dream of it.

Well, I shall not have a weddin’ as fancy as the one Mrs. Whitfield put on for her daughter...if I can help it. Abigail Whitfield can be very persistent when she wants to be, and she loves nothin’ better than plannin’ a special occasion.

He smiled, And gossip about every detail for at least a month?

A month? Oh my no. ‘Twill likely be more than six months. She watched a tugboat going the opposite direction for a moment and hoped it had come to push the ship into port. Have you a very large family?

Not very, David answered. I have three brothers, two of whom are also Pinkerton Agents, and one sister.

Are your parents yet livin’?

They are. They live in Chicago.

Do the Pinkertons have an office in Colorado?

David kept his eyes on the tugboat too. You are hoping to live near your family?

As I said last night, I care not where we live as long as we are together. I was just wonderin’. Anyway, ‘tis but three or four days from Chicago to Denver by train. We can visit as often as we like. He said nothing, so she continued. I fear we must have a large weddin’, for we are a rather large family. I am the eldest of eight, although some are cousins. Then there are the servants and their families, The Whitfields, my father’s business associates, and...

Servants? he asked.

Twelve when last I was there, which has been the better part of a year now.

Why so many?

When my uncle Hannish built Marblestone, he planned for a very large family. He is quite fond of children, you see’ and can often be seen takin’ the youngest with him wherever he goes. You shall like Butler Prescot, and no one’s cookin’ is as divine as Cook Halen’s.

Exactly how big is Marblestone?

Very big.

How many rooms?

Sixty-seven if you do not count the hidden room.

David paused. No wonder you need so many servants.

They are more like family than servants. Most have been with us for years and would have it no other way. They are paid well and are quite happy, I have always believed.

Yet, they are servants.

She noticed a faraway look in his eyes. Darlin’ David, I dinna choose my family, they chose me.

He smiled finally. Of course they did and I admire them for it. There are far too many orphaned children in the world.

"I know how to clean and cook, if that concerns you...although I