Scars Upon Her Heart (The Scars of The Heart Series)

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  Only Stewart knew Wilfred was still in Lisbon, and so far Vevina had managed to elude him. They had said a tender farewell at the docks. Stewart had reassured her of his love, and promised to see her soon. Wilfred had boarded the ship with her, and then they had got the pilot to drop them off at Oeiras, from whence they had returned to the capital, and laid low at army headquarters ever since.

  Vevina had longed to be with Stewart once more, but she was sure he was being watched all the time, and in her heart she knew she needed to be completely sure of his honesty and loyalty, so that no shadow of the past would ever hang between them again.

  A tap at the door signalled that Wilfred was ready, and he surveyed his sister with a small smile of satisfaction.

  “You look lovely, Viv, even lovelier than the last time you wore that gown,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  Vevina shrugged, and gathered up her lacy shawl. “Don’t be looking at me tonight. Keep watch on Helen of Troy.”

  Wilfred smiled again, looking forward to the evening in spite of the dangers. Really, Viv and Stewart were so stubborn. They needed something to jolt them out of their prideful reticence and admit they loved one another.

  They travelled together in a small barouche, and Wilfred gave the name of James as they entered the glittering foyer, alight with thousands of candles, and the sparkling jewels of the most fashionable ladies of Lisbon society.

  But Vevina was undazzled by the glamour, looking only for Helen of Troy and any other people she might recognize. Soon she spotted Emma as Bodicea, and the Marquess as Julius Caesar. But she got the shock of her life when a man in a rather battle worn Major’s uniform came up and seized her hand, and pulled her behind a pillar.

  “My dear, surely you remember me, from the ball in Cork two years ago?”

  Vevina’s eyes took in the appearance of the man from top to toe, and she concluded with relief that he was not Willoughby, the one person who might suspect it was she wearing the gown.

  “I can’t tell you how overjoyed I am to find you again, and here of all places. Miss, I hardly dared hope your father would consent to our being wed last year, but he agreed. Why did you then have me thrown out by the servants?”

  “Sir, I have no idea to what incident you refer,” Vevina replied in confusion, recognising the man with a pang of surprise, but still scanning the crowd. “You left the house, never to return, and obviously thought better of your impetuous behaviour. I am married now, and there is nothing more we have to say to each other.”

  “But, Madame, your beauty, wit and intelligence won my heart. Do you not see, I love you, I can’t live without you, and you returned those feelings. Or have you since thought better of marrying a mere soldier?” the man demanded, pressing her up against the pillar, so that she felt flushed with embarrassment, and hoped Stewart didn’t see her in such a compromising position.

  She pushed against his chest, shaking her head. “That would not have been my objection, since I have in fact married a soldier. But marriage is not simply some mild flirtation at a costume ball, sir. The two partners must respect one another, be able to trust as well as love one another. We had no time to know anything about each other before you disappeared.”

  “And I have been tormented by what might have been every day since. Please, Madame, I ardently love and admire you. Don’t let mere social convention prevent you from admitting you feel the same,” the tall man begged above the din of the ball, dragging her into an alcove.

  Vevina wondered desperately how she could get the knife out of her boot fast enough if he persisted in being a nuisance.

  “Once and for all,” she declared, turning her head back and forth to avoid his questing lips, “I love my husband, and no matter how badly he treated me, I would never be unfaithful. We have a wonderful life, and I would die for him if need be. Now let me go, and force your attentions on some other woman.”

  But his face came closer and closer. Desperately Vevina tore at the mask, and even in the dim candlelight, she could see Stewart’s face looking down at her.

  “Stewart, why?” Vevina gasped, white with anger and fear. It had all been a prank?

  “Stop struggling, Vevina, and just listen. It was me the night of the ball so long ago. I loved you then, I love you now. But my pride was stung when I realized I had loved you for so long, only to find out from Wilfred that it had been you, but that appearances seemed to indicate that you had turned me down.

  "I’m sorry, Vevina, I thought you’d only married me to give the children a name. The only woman I’ve ever loved was you, at the ball, in this magnificent dress. You were an unattainable ideal, which kept me sane throughout all the long days and nights here in Spain.”

  “You love me? You really love me?” Vevina stared, backing away slightly to see his face more clearly.

  “But you said you loved someone else,” Stewart continued, “and I wondered if a bit of romance would sweep you off your feet. The test was an unworthy trick, I admit, but after all I've done to you, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t love me. I know you were in love with someone else before me, but Vevina, I promise I’ll try to make you happy once we’re home in Ireland.”

  She shook her head, and began to laugh. “Stewart, it was you I loved, though in the time we’ve spent together, I realized my love for the elusive stranger was just a childish fantasy. I never turned you down that night! By the time I ever got to the library, you were long gone. Samuel said something before he died about your wanting to marry me, but I couldn’t imagine what he meant, since to my knowledge I’d never met you as an adult before,” Vevina sighed, and put a hand up to his cheek.

  "He must have been the one to hit you over the head and have me dragged out by the servants. He disgraced me in front of my father, who shipped me off to London. Otherwise, I would have come back for you the very next day. You must believe me—"

  "I do. Just as you need to believe that I said yes. It was Samuel who had betrayed you all along, resenting any good fortune you might have, and eager for my lands."

  He held her close. “To think, we might never have had to go through all this if it hadn’t been for him. If I had married you, it would have ruined all his plans. And we’ve been frightened by other rivals, when none existed.”

  “Stewart, I love you, but well, you seemed so distant at Emma’s house...”

  Stewart pinned her to the pillar and kissed her breathless. “Vevina, I desire you so much I tremble inwardly every time I come within ten feet of you. But you're young, with four children already. I don’t dare risk getting you with child again. Call me selfish, but I want you by my side day and night for the rest of my life. When you nearly died at Salamanca, I vowed I would be more well, understanding,” he confessed, caressing her cheek lovingly.

  “Stewart, I love you. Any more children we shall have will just be an added blessing.” Vevina smiled through her tears, her heart full. “I want you in my bed, with no doubts or dissension between us ever again. Death is a part of life, and I want to grow old and grey with you. Even if I died tomorrow, nothing could make me happier than the times we have shared in the past year.”

  “Do you remember our first Christmas together, you dressed as a ragamuffin, and Wilfred ill?” Stewart whispered, as he showered her face with kisses.

  “Who would have ever thought we would be here, like this now?” Vevina sighed, as his mouth claimed hers fiercely.

  “I did, I must admit," he said when he lifted his lips a moment later. "I wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you, and if I hadn’t thought you were married to Will, I would have made love to you until you begged for mercy.”

  She grinned happily. “Well, I’ll take that as my Christmas present later. Now we have slightly more pressing matters. By the way, thank you for not berating me for staying behind when our friends and the children got on the boat.”

  “I have a suspicion you probably jumped ship and swam all the way back to Lisbon, but I can scold you sou
ndly for that later,” Stewart said with a grin. “Right now, I think it’s time for Wellington to arrive, and we need to keep an eye on our friends.”

  “Any sign of the Count or Willoughby?”

  “The Count is dressed as a Conquistador, though he looks more like a barrel, but no sign of Willoughby.”

  "And Helen of Troy?"

  He shook his head. "Not at the minute."

  “Right, we’ll move about in the crowd, and see if we can detect Willoughby.“

  “All right, but be careful, and Vevina....”

  “I know, Stewart, I love you too. Be careful.”

  Wellington arrived, and nodded to Vevina, aware of her disguise, as he mingled with the guests. Though she was watchful, she could see no sign of Willoughby. She chatted to harlequins, bishops, Elizabethan courtiers, but did not recognize a single voice.

  A short time later she spotted one of her quarry. It was Helen of Troy, who seemed very relaxed.

  Then she sought out Wilfred, who was staying close to Wellington, and said in an undertone, “He doesn’t seem to be here.”

  “Perhaps he’s down at the docks.”

  “But he’s a cautious person. He’ll want an alternate plan in case this fails, and certainly someone else to pin the blame on.”

  “He could be anywhere in this sea of costumes and uniforms.”

  Vevina glanced up, and saw Stewart coming towards them, but then she blinked, and grabbed Wilfred’s arm.

  “Uniforms!” she hissed. “Stewart is wearing his old one with the Major’s insignia on it. That can’t be him, it's a colonel's uniform, yet here he is coming this way.”

  Wilfred and Vevina scurried towards Wellington, who had his back to the approaching assassin.

  “My Lord, you promised me this dance,” Vevina said loudly.

  The pistol was already raised in the man’s hand.

  Wilfred was a fraction of a second too late in reaching the would-be assassin. Vevina saw he was not going to make it in time, and lunged at Wellington’s legs

  She brought him crashing down onto the marble floor. The bullet sang past his left shoulder. It shattered a tray of full glasses into a million pieces, and caused the servant to fall to the floor, grabbing his arm in agony.

  Wilfred struggled with Willoughby briefly, before Stewart came over and bashed him on the head with the butt of his pistol.

  Suddenly the men they had placed strategically around the room moved in unison, capturing all of the other conspirators who were attempting to flee now that their plot had failed.

  As they were unmasked, Vevina recognized most of them as visitors to Emma’s house.

  Emma herself was brought up kicking and screaming, a loaded pistol being snatched from her gasp.

  “Emma, a double agent. After all the years of friendship I gave you and your family?” Wellington remarked angrily, hurt and disappointment clouding his already austere features.

  “Friendship doesn’t pay the bills, Arthur!” Emma sneered, as they dragged her away.

  “Where is the Contessa?” Vevina suddenly remarked, looking desperately for the Helen of Troy gown.

  Vevina and Stewart looked at each other in horror. The most dangerous woman in Europe had just slipped from their grasp.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  "The Contessa can't have got far," Stewart reassured his wife. "All her plans hinged on this ball, this evening. The assassination attempt on Wellington failed. Knowing her, though, she has a back-up plan. Let's go."

  A quick search of the ballroom revealed she had stabbed her captor through the heart with a small dagger, and fled down the back passage.

  Vevina and Stewart ran down after her, but Vevina was hurled roughly into a corner, where a French soldier kept her pinned.

  Stewart was grabbed as soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “Andre!” she gasped when she looked up and recognized her captor.

  He shook his head. “Say nothing!” he hissed.

  As Vevina looked passed his shoulder, she saw Vincent struggling with Stewart. Or what appeared to be struggling, for she noted Vincent whispering in his ear, and then pointing a pistol loosely at a suddenly subdued Stewart, who looked over at her and gave a reassuring nod.

  But it was not going to be easy, for there were five other soldiers in the room, plus the Countess, who held a pistol pointed straight at Stewart's heart.

  “Now, in exactly three minutes this entire place is going to explode. We’ve had a lot of good times together, Stewart. Are you coming with me, or not?” the Contessa demanded.

  Vevina could hear Andre make a small choking sound, and loosened his grip on her.

  “The good times were all in your head, Elizabeth, from the first. You wanted to ensnare me for my lands in Ireland, my fortune. I played along, but I was never so foolish as to think you loved me. You arranged the elopement all by yourself, but didn’t realize I was long gone.

  "Now you've met me again so many years later and are trying to use me again for money. Not to mention use my lands for an invasion of Ireland. Just how much did they pay you to betray me and your own country? “

  “Don’t be silly, Stewart, I love you! After all the nights of passion we’ve shared!” Elizabeth shouted, pretending to be hurt, but really looking cattily over at Vevina to see her reaction.

  Vevina put on a good performance. “You lying swine! I knew I should have gone home to Ireland, but you begged me to stay. You told me it was all a mistake! I never want to see you again. Stay with this woman. You deserve each other.”

  The Contessa laughed, and now trained her pistol on Vevina. “I have it all now, Stewart, just as you say. Money is everything, and don’t worry, I'll treat you well so long as you obey my every command. There's just a small matter of your inconvenient little wife here to be dealt with, and then we're free to marry.” She cocked the pistol and took aim.

  Andre suddenly released Vevina, and she feinted to the right, pretending to head for the stairs.

  The countess shrieked, “Stop her!”

  Vevina turned in an instant, and punched the countess squarely in the jaw. The traitorous woman's pistol went off, pocking the plaster in the wall near Andre's head. Then the two women began to struggle, until some of the Contessa's men finally intervened.

  Vevina’s gown was torn down to her waist by one of the other soldiers, and she pretended to faint.

  Stewart had wasted no time launching an attack, and used his sabre to great effect. He had already killed two soldiers by the time Vevina reached down for her dagger, and then she crawled along the floor unseen to grab the Countess.

  But she had already lit the touchpaper, and before Vevina could try to extinguish it, Vevina was hauled up by her hair by one of the other soldiers, who put a knife to her throat.

  Vevina was sure she was going to die. She grabbed at the arm with one hand, and was about to draw up her knife to stab him with the other.

  Before she could take the risk, Andre, moving for the first time since the scuffle had broken out, fired a single shot right between the man’s eyes.

  Vevina and her captor fell to the floor with a thud. Vevina rolled back up onto her feet, and ducked out of the way of a swishing sword. She lunged forward as the French soldier sought to regain his balance, and buried the knife up to the hilt in his neck.

  Her nemesis saw all her plans unravelling as one by one, all her men falling at the hands of her rival and the man she longed to have power over. Only the Olivier brothers were left now, and Vincent's presence had only been obvious by his struggle to get past the other men fighting to stop the touchpaper from being lit.

  “Stewart, I love you! Come with me!” Elizabeth begged.

  A cold fury lit Andre’s face, and fast as lightning his sabre struck. He ran the Contessa through before she even knew what hit her.

  “And to think I did all this for you!” he spat, as she crumpled, her lovely face contorted with rage and a fear of death.

  Ste
wart finished off the last of their foes. Then he yanked the spluttering fuse out of the gunpowder barrel, and faced Andre.

  “She was lying, you know that, don’t you? I never...” Stewart trailed off and shrugged.

  “No, I know you didn’t. Not with a wife like Vevina at your side.”

  “Andre, I don’t understand. How could you have been party to this, when you helped me in Grenoble. When you helped Stewart when he was captured?”

  “I loved my honor on the one hand, and was completely enthralled by Elizabeth on the other. She reminded me of Alicia, you see.... In looks, not manner. In manner, she reminds me of a wild Irish rose I once knew, but she certainly didn't match you in morals."