Then he began to lead the woman in the exquisite lavender gown out of the shop and down the street.
The woman had smiled triumphantly at Vevina as she had skirted past, as if showing off her prize to all the world. Except, damn it, that he was Vevina’s husband.
“Come for that coffee now, and I’ll try to explain everything,” Emma said softly, kissing Vevina's cold cheek before leading her out of the shop.
“Who is she?” Vevina demanded as soon as they were seated.
“She was Elizabeth Ryan, of Cork. You may have met her once or twice, many years ago at hunt meetings and so on, but you would have been very very young. Stewart and she had a rather scandalous flirtation some time ago. When she came to London for her season, at the age of twenty because her parents tried to bring her up so strictly, she went completely wild.”
Emma hesitated, and then revealed, “It’s a commonly held belief that she planned to elope with Stewart, but he got recalled to the regiment unexpectedly before he could make the final arrangements for their flight and marriage.
"By the time he returned from his latest posting, she had married the Count de Cristobal, and had become the Contessa of a huge establishment in Northern Spain, with lands in Portugal as well. Stewart vowed at the time that he would never forgive her for being so mercenary.”
“Is the Count still alive?” Vevina asked worriedly.
“He is, and well used to his wife’s fast ways. The Count married her for her beauty, as a possession everyone would envy. She married him for his money, of course, though she still claims to all who will listen that she would trade it all away for the one man who truly loved her.”
Vevina sat silently, digesting the information.
Then she began to rise from her seat. “Thank you for your hospitality, Emma, but I might as well start packing to go home. I’ll not be made a fool of any longer, and I will only be in the way.”
“Vevina,” Emma whispered, pulling her back down, “it isn’t all as you imagine!”
Vevina stared at Emma, and suddenly realized that under her plump jollity, there lurked a hardness which Vevina suddenly glimpsed for the first time.
“Think for a minute. Even leaving aside the fact that he's your husband and you love him, did you not think it strange that he said you were his brother’s wife?”
“Only to cover up an unpleasant situation, and keep the countess sweet.”
“No, Vevina, think again. Arthur has told me everything. I’m only sorry I couldn’t protect you.”
Vevina stared at her in confusion. “But Stewart was injured, and captured by the French! How could he escape, come here to Lisbon, without a word to me at Salamanca!”
“Not here, my dear. The plazas have eyes and ears,” Emma said mysteriously.
She threw down a handful of coins before leading Vevina back to the house.
Once they were up in Vevina’s apartments and Emma made certain they were alone, they sat on the bed together.
Emma recounted in a low whisper, “Stewart was injured, rather badly, especially his left arm. But as luck would have it, the commanding French officer who took his parole was Andre Olivier of the Imperial Guards, now in charge of Burgos.
"When he was well enough, Colonel Olivier went on with him to Vitoria, and then to San Sebastian. There he met Vincent Olivier, who gave his brother the news that the French are planning to co-ordinate an invasion of Ireland.”
Vevina felt uneasy that Emma seemed to know so much about all that had happened, and wondered why Wellington had told her so much, when he had told her nothing the last time he had seen her.
Emma paused dramatically, and then continued in a whisper, “Apparently someone desperate for the money is helping with the scheme, and Colonel Olivier is fairly certain it is the Countess. After all, she comes from the same part of the country, always hated Ireland and her strict parents, and they are not as wealthy as they seem. Even collaborating with the French, letting them use their estate, they are nearly bankrupt.”
Vevina’s eyes widened, but she did not dare interrupt.
“Colonel Olivier and his brother are both very loyal to you and your family, so he decided to warn Stewart. Since they knew the Fitzgerald name in Paris as being involved with the planned invasion, they were quite happy to substitute one brother for another to gain their own ends,” Emma explained, all the time fixing her eyes on Vevina’s face.
“So Stewart is working as a spy, keeping the countess happy while he finds out everything?” Vevina summarized, feeling her stomach roil as if she were about to be ill.
“Yes, but that’s not all. The Olivier brothers also allowed him, under disguise of taking exercise, to see the layouts and defences of three of the major Spanish forts. He can move about behind enemy lines with impunity because of his connections.
"Really Vevina, I don’t blame you for being upset, but you can see how important his work is. You must not make a scene. But nor do I think you should go home just yet. Stewart loves you, needs you, of that I am sure.”
Vevina rose from the bed, and stood over by the window, looking out into the walled garden at the rear of the house.
She sighed and shook her head. "No, he doesn't."
"Of course he needs you. Men are hopeless ninnies without a good woman to—"
"I meant, no, he doesn't love me."
Emma looked thunderstruck. "What on earth do you mean. You adore him. It has to be a love match."
She turned from the window and confided, "No, never. He married me because I was with child."
"Well, er, surely that must mean he has some sort of feelings—" the Marquesa stammered.
"Respect, if I'm lucky. Though damned little of that if he could take up with the Contessa so readily." She sighed. "No, the fact is that before Stewart married me, he said he had never stopped loving a woman from his past, even though she had betrayed him. The Contessa is that woman."
Emma stared at her. "Are you sure?"
Vevina moved from the window to pace in front of the hearth. "Aren't you? You know more of the story than I do, being closer to the two parties in age. And you saw them yourself, Emma. I know you've been trying to cover up for him all the time I've been here. It's been very kind of you, but there's really no need. I know he doesn't love me. And there's no sense in denying it any longer, now is there. If it's all really been so innocent, for the sake of duty, then why didn't Wellington or you tell me in the first place?”
She sighed. “I can't speak for Arthur, but he commanded me to secrecy. And I didn't want you to misinterpret things. Please, Vevina, I know what it must look like but trust Stewart. In a few more weeks, his mission will be over, and you can settle your differences then."
"How can you be so certain?"
She whispered, "He has found messages. Something is happening here in Lisbon at Christmas. Stewart needs proof of the Countess’ treachery."
"Are you sure? What sort of thing?"
"I'm sure as to the when, but as for the rest, well, it's in Stewart's hands now. I am sure that is the only thing keeping you from him. I knew she had a townhouse here, but I never expected them to turn up and, er, uspet you."
Vevina gave a derisive snort of laughter. "Upset is putting it mildly."
"Please, my dear, don't rush off back home in high dudgeon. Stay and show them what you're made of."
"Stewart should already know. He should have confided in me. I could have helped him—"
"With four children in tow?"
She stuck her chin out proudly. "As I said, Stewart should know what I'm made of. I don't run at the least sign of trouble."
"So then you won't run home to Ireland now," Emma said with a small smile of triumph.
Vevina crossed her arms against her chest as she leaned one shoulder against the mantelpiece. "Now I didn't say that either—"
"At least stay for the fabulous Mayor’s ball, for fun, and then if you still wish to go home, we shall send you on one of my brother-in
law’s finest ships, straight back to Cork harbor, that I promise.”
Vevina resumed in her pacing for a moment longer, then turned to face her friend, and shrugged. "All right, I'll give it one more month. If all of this is to be settled by Christmas, as you say, then where is the harm."
“Excellent. Now, just one more question."
"Oh?"
"What will you wear to the ball?” Emma asked, reverting back to her old jolly self.
Vevina waved away the question with one hand and sat heavily on the chair by the bedside. “I don’t know if I should go. If Stewart is there with that woman, it will be too painful.”
“Don’t be silly, you must go. Everyone who is anyone will be there!”
Vevina sat wretchedly attempting to do some embroidery while the older woman recounted the names and highlighted the latest fashions.
Then Emma said kindly, “I can see you’re not in the mood for silly talk of clothes at the moment, so I’ll leave you for now. You have plenty of time to decide.
"And one piece of good news that should cheer you up, is that I hear Wilfred has had a fever, only very slight, but is fine."
"That's hardly good news," she exclaimed impatiently, again wondering how the older woman knew more about her own family than she did.
"Ah, but the good news is that he's coming here to recuperate. Wellington sent me a message to tell you. It was downstairs when we arrived home.”
"Have you got the letter with you? What else did it say?" she asked, eager for any news of her other friends.
"Oh, er, I gave it back to the footman and came straight up here after you. I wanted to speak to you, you were so upset."
Vevina rose from her seat. "Thank you for thinking of me. But if you could show me the letter—"
"Well, it is a bit private, sensitive issues, you know." She winked.
"Hmm, private indeed, like my husband consorting with that doxy for weeks—"
"Now Vevina, I've already explained that."
"Yes, indeed," she said moving to the other side of the bed. "I've heard quite enough for the moment, thank you. So if you don't mind, I think I’ll lie down, and cry of any company tonight. Is it too much trouble to ask to send up some supper a bit later?"
“Whatever you wish, my dear, but don’t you dare brood. And don’t worry, the servants will take care of the children. We’ll see you in the morning.”
She patted Vevina on the cheek, and departed.
Chapter Forty-five
As soon as the Marquesa had left, Vevina lay down cried herself to sleep, disappointment, anger, and longing all competing in her breast. The way Stewart had looked at the Countess, touched her, burned in Vevina’s memory. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, she noted with a pang.
But even more unforgivable was not having got word to her somehow that he was fine, when she had been fearing the worst every day since that fateful campaign at Salamanca.
Vevina eventually dozed, but she woke with a start, aware that someone was in the room beside her.
A strong hand held her down by her breast, and she tried to wriggle away from Stewart’s seeking fingers. “How dare you come in here like this, after what I saw today!” she hissed, slapping at him.
“Vevina please, won’t you listen to my explanation?” he implored, pinning her down on the bed until all the fight left her, and she could only lay mutinously glaring at him.
“I don’t want to hear it! I suppose I ought to be sophisticated, and accept the fact that my husband has affairs, but I don’t wish to be so mature. I was in Salamanca day after day, night after night with our children, waiting for some word that you were all right. They told me you were injured. That you might have lost an arm or a leg. Or been killed.
"Then, instead of being unable to come back to us because you were injured or had duties, I find you trailing around with that whore, buying undergarments with her in public for all of Lisbon to see.”
“Vevina, you fought to protect Ireland, and I was jealous as hell of all those men who paraded after you, but I never reproached you, did I?” Stewart snapped, easing the pressure from her shoulders somewhat, so that she was able to sit up in the bed.
“There was nothing to reproach me for. I wasn't being so intimate with any of them. And as for reproach, no, you only tried to throw Mitchell down the stairs head first! Stewart, they were doing it to protect my honor, since they knew you didn’t want to marry me. That embarrassment was bad enough, made even worse by the fact that you told the whole camp you loved another woman!” Vevina sniped, as she struggled to get off the bed.
"Vevina, I can explain—"
But she skirted past him to the window, and planted a chair in front of her as a barrier. “Now after months of silence, I find you with that other woman. If there’s no place for me in your life any more Stewart, just tell me now. Don’t have me worrying, waiting for you for nothing,” Vevina said angrily, glad the darkness of the room obscured her tears.
“Elizabeth is not...”
“Don’t be so absurd, Stewart, I know about the failed elopement, and it all tallies with everything you told me.”
“Vevina! Listen to me!” Stewart raged, tugging the chair out of the way.
She ran to the other side of the room as though she were about to flee. He put his back against the portal just in time to block her escape.
“No, spare me the protests. Actions speak louder than words. I had just had a difficult birth, you left me, and never came back. For all you know I might have died, and your children might have been abandoned in Salamanca. We weren't even married four months before you started chasing after that light-skirt. So what else is there to say? I don’t want to hear your lies and excuses. Spare me that at least.”
“If you won’t hear me out, Vevina, what do you want me to do then?”
“Just go away, go back to her. We have got by all this time on our own, we’ll manage again. There’s no need for you to feel guilty, or tied down. I’ll just go back to Ireland and try to pretend none of the past year ever happened.”
“Pretty difficult to do with four children,” Stewart commented softly, as he stealthily approached her in the corner of the darkened room, and stroked her cheek. “And me? Can you honestly forget all about the times we’ve shared?”
She heaved a huge sigh, but did not slap his hand away. “I’m angry and disappointed, Stewart, but I can see she has the prior claim. I can’t win your heart. I know you only married me because you had to.”
“What are you saying? That you don’t want me any more?” Stewart demanded, as his arms came around her, pressing Vevina’s slender form to his huge and fiercely-aroused body.
“I must give you up,” she panted, closing her eyes as the acute desire coursed through her veins, “but only because I want you to be happy. I know I’m not the woman who can fulfil all your dreams.”
Stewart declared in a dangerously soft voice, “You have always been the woman of my dreams, even when you betrayed me, left me on my own to pine wretchedly for you.”
“Then you’ve more than paid me back, Stewart. I’ve pined too, for so many months. But now it’s finished,” Vevina whispered urgently, desperately trying to persuade herself as much as Stewart that she didn’t want him any more. “Go back to your first love. Be happy, and forget you ever met me.”
He shook his head, and moved closer. “Impossible, my love, for then I should forget the only happy times of my life, and I need you, Vevina, to keep me sane, to keep me whole,” Stewart murmured.
His mouth suddenly took hers in a stirring kiss which filled Vevina with yearnings she struggled hard against. But Stewart’s skilled hands and mouth brought her quickly to fever pitch.
Though at the back of her mind she was still furiously angry and disappointed, she loved him. She wanted to believe in him, trust him. As he undressed her, she tugged at the buttons of his uniform, desperate for a touch of his warm, silky soft skin.
“Vevina, someone might com
e in,” he whispered, as she eventually succeeded in getting him partially undressed, and she herself was covered only by her shimmering tresses, which fell about her shoulders and breasts sensually.
“I’m meant to be resting, and the servants are looking after the children,” she murmured drowsily.
Stewart suddenly stilled, releasing her, and he kissed Vevina on the forehead, as a man might do to a child.
Vevina felt the abrupt change in him, the sudden distancing of himself, if not physically, then mentally.
She rubbed up against him, purring, “Come now, there is a light chill in this room without a fire. Get under the covers with me at least.”
Scars Upon Her Heart (The Scars of The Heart Series) Page 36
