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

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  He shook his head. "What a fool I’ve been. I was aware of the debt I owed to you. When I discovered you were in Lisbon, being used as surety for Stewart’s cooperation, I had to protect you. But now they will know back in Paris that Vincent and I are both traitors,” Andre sighed. “It is finished.”

  “No, it isn’t. You can help Wellington win the war, and if you really can't come up with the plausible story to cover up the fact that you've been helping the British, you can come home with us, on parole,” Vevina insisted. “Please say you’ll agree.”

  Stewart nodded, and the brothers both shrugged.

  “The tide of the war is turning, and I always did like to be on the winning side. We will come with you, Vevina,” Vincent assented.

  Andre gazed down regretfully at the body of the Contessa one last time. Then he nodded. "Aye, I am willing. There is no honor in this war any longer if people like her side with the Little Corporal. Tell me what I can do to redeem myself, and I shall do it."

  Chapter Fifty

  Vevina and Stewart led the way from the dank, gunpowder-filled cellar to the ballroom, where some revellers were still gathered celebrating Christmas. Vevina shuddered to think of the carnage the Contessa could have caused if she, Stewart and the Olivier brothers had not stopped her in time and they had blown up the townhouse and everyone inside.

  They weaved their way through the throng to the private anteroom where Wellington had been brought after the attack.

  They assured their commander that the danger was over. Then they revealed to Wellington all that had happened in the cellar, and introduced him to the Olivier brothers.

  He asked to speak with them privately with Stewart present, and so Vevina stepped out into the corridor, where she was met by her brother, who embraced her with sheer relief.

  He recounted how each of the traitors had been captured, inclulding Willoughby.

  She told him quickly what had happened in the cellar. He listened in silence, and eventually in evident relief. "So it's really over?"

  She nodded. "Yes, I think so. At least this part of the plot. Welllington is safe, and the nest of traitors close to him exposed for what they really are. As for the rest of the Contessa's plans, well, let's hope Andre can shed a bit more light on them."

  "Come, let's get you decent, my dear. There are still people milling about, thinking the events here tonight were part of the revels."

  Wilfred led his sister way to another room just down the corridor so that she could removed the shredded gown which now left little to the imagination.

  She opened the sabretache he had been carrying with her back to him and tugged out her tunic. Then she began to strip down to the breeches she had donned underneath.

  "Pity about the gown," Wilfred commented. "Stewart first fell in love with you in it."

  "It was the best thing you ever did sending for it. Every lingering doubt in both our minds about our marriage have well and truly been put to rest."

  "I'm so glad. Though how either of you could ever have doubted each other's love is truly beyond me."

  "Let's hope your path to true love runs a lot more smoothly."

  "Indeed. If I ever decide to wed. For with such a paragon as you in the world, a lot of women are going to fall short in my estimation of what I want in a wife. An army wife," he added with a laugh.

  "The war won't last forever, Brother," she reminded him. "So a woman who can shoot and fence might not be the best choice."

  "Better than a light-skirt in feathers and furbelows who thinks of nothing but hairstyles and the latest gossip all day," he said emphatically.

  They both giggled.

  "So that's who we're fighting this war for," Vevina joked.

  "No, for your children, and theirs, so they can be free from tyranny and oppression. And yes, we are fortunate to be landed and titled, but with great wealth comes great responsibility, not endless rounds of pleasure."

  "Careful, Will, or people will label you a radical," she warned, only half in jest.

  "I care not, Sister. And anyone who does is most often the one who does the least for the poor people of England."

  "Aye, like the Contessa and Willougby. They had wealth, and frittered it all away. They sold their souls to the devil for mere coin to continue their endless pleasure-seeking. It was the luckiest day of my life when Stewart came into it. He saved me from a sham of a marriage to Willougby the first time we met. He saved my life and yours the second time. And even more than the gift of life, he gave me the gift of love, and two beautiful children."

  "And you did the same for him, Sister," Wilfred pointed out. "You have the luck of the angels on your side. Samuel would have killed him for certain if it hadn't been for you. He destroyed everything he touched, and for what? His own greed and ambition, nothing more."

  "Aye. Poor father," she sniffed.

  "Aye, but you know, he would be so proud of you right now."

  "And you."

  "And he would have loved Stewart. He was certainly ready to welcome him into the family."

  "I'm glad," Vevina said, wiping back a tear, before rolling the now discarded gown into a heap and turning to face her brother.

  "Maybe I should try to repair it?"

  He shook his head. "No need. It's all etched on your heart, is it not? And you'll have a living reminder daily of the blessings you have. Stewart loves you and the children more than anything. Now that the threats against you are over, you both deserve to be happy."

  "Amen to that."

  Just as she was finishing changing, she heard her husband calling her.

  "I'm here," she called back, buttoning the last of the fastenings.

  When Vevina and Wilfred rejoined the others, Wellington smiled at her.

  “Once again, you’ve done a soldier’s duty for your country. Pity you’re only a woman.”

  “True, my Lord, but I don’t think the soldier’s life is really for me. Far too much excitement and ruined clothes,” she jested.

  “Colonel Fitzgerald, and Captain Joyce, your deeds shall be noted and rewarded soon. But for now, I order you both to go back home on the next available ship. That is, if this young miss has no objections this time?” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “None at all, my Lord. We've sent the children back to England, after all. So it’s time to go home on leave. But we would like to come back.

  "And please, I would request the parole of the Olivier brothers, until the war is over. They were doing their duty, but still helped us when we needed it most.”

  Wellington nodded. “They have already explained to me what they know of this affair, and yes, they can come with you if they wish. But I have the feeling they want to continue doing their duty to France, as true patriots trying to free their country from oppression."

  Vevina looked from one to the other, and they smiled.

  "Then the best of luck, both of you, and try to stay in touch. And if you want to come home to a safe haven once more, in England or Ireland, well, I'll have my servants make up your old rooms."

  Vincent and Andre both bowed over her hand, and then Vincent gave her a huge bear hug. "Many blessings on you both. And thank you."

  "I've done little enough."

  He patted her shoulder. "You've shown me what true courage and compassion means. Everything you did, you did to save lives. You’ve made me see that Napoleon is nothing but a butcher who must be stopped before the flower of France withers."

  She nodded, near tears. "And the mighty oaks of England too."

  Andre bent to kiss her on the cheek. "My brother has spoken for both of us. We are the last of our family except for the girls. My parents have suffered enough. I want them to be grandparent. I want my sisters to be able to each meet a good man, whole in body and mind, and marry, and raise their children in a world free from suffering and terror."

  "Amen to that," Vevina, Wilfred and Stewart all said at the same time, and smiled.

  Wellington nodded approvingly.
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  Andre turned to Wellington. "There has been too much killing. Whatever you wish us to do to help you end it, we shall do, no matter what the cost."

  Wellington rolled his eyes. "Another pair of wide-eyed idealists."

  Vevina grinned. "Aren't you fortunate, then. After all, we believe everything is possible, and make it so."

  He patted her on the shoulder. "Indeed. More grateful than I can say. Which is why you're all getting three months' leave. I'm hoping this will be a quiet winter for us with Napoleon waging war in Russia.

  "So go on, both of you. You’ve been separated for far too long. Make the most of your time away, for you'll be back here soon enough, and then we have a long march into France together to look forward to." He winked.

  "Yes, sir, thank you, sir," Stewart said, looping his arm around his wife's slender waist.

  "And you Wilfred, you're going on leave too. You suffered a terrible loss with the death of your father. You need to get your affairs in order back home after Samuel's depredations, and I have a feeling the three of you need to try to make sense of it all. And for a bit of help until you do, please accept a banker's draft on some of the treasure they gave me. Call into headquarters before you leave to pick it up."

  "Yes, sir, thank you, sir. Most generous."

  "Nonsense. It's no less than you all deserve. So, if the Olivier brothers will follow me, I will bid you all compliments of the holiday season and good night. Also adieu for the present, and don’t forget to kiss little Arthur and the others for me.”

  The Viscount smiled, bowed, then he and ADC Monroe, the Oliviers, and the rest of his entourage disappeared.

  The small group of three heaved a huge sigh of relief, and relaxed at last, seemingly for the first time since the Joyces had been rescued in turn by Stewart a year before.

  "Thank God it's all over," Wilfred said, throwing himself into a chair with a sigh. "That was far too close for comfort."

  "But it's over now, at least for a time. With the Contessa gone, and Andre firmly on our side, well, whatever she had planned will have to wait," Vevina said, moving over to hug her brother.

  He stood up and sighed. "Well, mustn't brood. Tomorrow is another day, and I shall make myself useful by running to the docks to see if any ships are leaving, and when."

  Stewart nodded. "Good idea. And if not a troop ship, see if we can get a billet or two on a merchantman. We can certainly afford it, and I don't want to waste another minute getting to know my four children."

  Vevina smiled up at him, her heart full to bursting. She had desired Stewart passionately from the moment they had met, but never had she loved him more than at that moment, with that one simple sentence.

  Wilfred was already partly out the door. "Aye, I'll head to the Roca docks first, and if I have no luck, I'll try the Steeles. They're the most successful Anglo-Portuguese merchants here and in Oporto, and have the angels own luck running the French blockades."

  "Thanks, Will. See you soon."

  He blew his sister a kiss, and vanished.

  Vevina blew out a shaky sigh, hardly able to fathom how close they had come to death, and yet had all been spared.

  Wilfred has said it. They had to have the angels own luck as well. Napoleon was the devil, and she prayed that this evening's events were a sign that his luck was running out.

  “Oh dear, I seem to have lost my wife,” Stewart teased, pretending to look for her. "She was wearing the most exquisite blue gown this evening."

  “I nearly lost my husband a few times,” Vevina said more seriously.

  “I’ll make it all up to you when we get back to headquarters, I promise,” he said, pulling her into his arms for a thorough kiss.

  “That’s a good start,” she laughed, but then grew pensive, as they walked out of the anteroom, down the stairs, and into the darkened streets of Lisbon, hurrying back to her room so they could be alone at last.

  “Do I detect a gloomy countenance, Vevina?” Stewart said in mock severity.

  “I was just thinking about how it might have turned out if the Countess hadn’t been stopped.”

  “Don’t think about it," he said, shaking his head. "We've a hard enough time coping with sorrows as they come, without imagining potential ones.” He held her tightly to his side, as though he would never let her go.

  “Will you be sorry to go home on leave, my love?” Vevina asked, partially dreading the answer.

  “Not at all. In fact, I am really relishing the opportunity to finally start our married life in earnest, with no more ghosts of the past standing between us, or enemies trying to pull us apart."

  "Amen to that."

  "And may I remind you, dear wife, it was your idea to stay here in the first place when we could have gone home to stay long ago,” he observed, kissing her on the brow.

  “I know, duty will always be important to you, as it has been to me. But there is love too, and that’s more important. Perhaps it's because I'm a mother now, that I see things differently. Or maybe I've just come far too close to losing you, darling."

  "And I you, my love. I don't want to risk it again."

  "Nor I. Yet we can't seek our own happiness at the expense of others."

  He squeezed her hand. "So, just leave then, not a post in London?"

  "This war can’t last forever, and we’ve made many sacrifices, experienced countless losses,” Vevina sighed, thinking of all their fallen comrades. "But to change one thing we did might have ended up in a worst disaster."

  "True."

  They reached the door to headquarters, where Vevina gave the password, and then led the way up the stairs.

  "So yes, leave only. Judging from what happened tonight, I think Wellington really does need all the trustworthy help he can get."

  “Fine, darling. That will still give us plenty of time for you to grow old and grey telling stories of your adventures to your grandchildren, and you can show me a few of your rather interesting war wounds when we get upstairs.”

  “Some scars can’t be seen on the outside, and some losses can’t be revealed,” Vevina remarked sadly, opening the door to her chamber. Stewart stepped in, closed it, and locked it behind him, his eyes never leaving her face.

  As Stewart pulled her to him and kissed her, her pensive mood fled, and she moaned his name against his lips.

  “Will this make it better?” he teased, showering her face with kisses before his mouth claimed her own again.

  “I don’t want it better. I lost my heart to you a long time ago, and scarred though it is, darling, it’s all yours,” Vevina breathed.

  “And you've always had mine, my dearest love, now and forever. You have been the love of my life, from the moment we met, and nothing will ever change that, not even death,” Stewart vowed, unbuttoning her tunic buttons one by one in an erotic manner which drove her wild with need.

  She sat on the edge of the bed to yank off her boots, and then tugged him into the bed with her.

  "Forever, my dearest Stewart," she promised, as their limbs intertwined in sensual bliss.

  He kissed her then, with a blaze of passion which Vevina was certainly would never burn out, and would warm them both for the rest of their lives.

  Historical Note: Wherever possible I have tried to write accurately about the Battles of Cuidad Roderigo, Badajoz, and Salamanca, while still inserting my totally fictional characters into the thick of the action.

  For the character and appearance of Viscount Wellington, as he was at the time of the events of this novel, later to become “The Iron Duke,” I have also relied on Christopher Hibbert’s wonderful biography of Wellington, published by Harper Collins, 1997, and The Armies of Wellington by Philip Haythornthwaite, Arms and Armour Press, 1994.

  The Peninsular War has been a ‘hobby’ of mine for many years. For any errors found in this book by the experts, I bow to your superior knowledge and hope you will forgive the dramatic licence.

  MORE TITLES BY AUTHOR:

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  The Mad Mistress

  The Missed Match

  The Miss Matched

  The Matchless Miss

  Scars Upon the Heart

  The Scarred Heart

  Guardian of the Heart

  The Mistaken Miss

  The Model Master

  The Model Mistress

  Innocence