No Hiding For The Guilty (The Heart of a Hero Book 5)

by Vanessa Riley

  She turned to the hearth.

  Elizabeth's frown became more pronounced swallowing up the joy she had in showing off her latest project. "Why are you interrupting? It took forever to get this young woman to listen."

  "You've had my mistress for a week. I should have some time with her."

  A sparkle returned to Elizabeth's blue eyes. "Before you take Miss Armijo, I need you to look over this. She opened a box on the table and pulled out a long parchment and handed it to him. "A few things to settle upon."

  He took the paper and scanned two or three legal sounding lines. "What is this?"

  "A contract. You might think you can just get a girl from Timbuktu, but she needs to be protected."

  Isadel pushed at her brow. "I tried to tell her this was not necessary."

  "It is necessary. Exotics never understand that a man's fancy can change even quicker. Too many are dumped in the streets, used up with no means to return to."

  "I want nothing from Bannerman. I will return to being a chef."

  "You think you'll be hired once word circulates that you've been a mistress? No. It won't happen. That is why you must be protected. No married woman would have such a tender morsel underfoot."

  Hugh scanned the pages again. The details of jewelry requirements and a monetary settlement made his head and conscience spin. Yet, in a completely twisted way, this would make things easier for Isadel if the Almeida Killer caught him unprepared. "I'll sign this. I want Isadel to know her future is protected."

  "And make good on the jewelry. I know the first Mrs. Bannerman had things I was never able to have. Your mistress will look well in diamonds or sapphires."

  The old girl knew how to squeeze out pence from crumbs. Hugh didn't consider himself ungenerous but without any jewelry, he must look like an ogre instead of a benefactor. "I'll correct this."

  "It should be pearls." Isadel's voice was low, distant, a hundred miles away. "My sister, Agueda, had a pearl one. The soldiers took it from her."

  "Good, this is settled." Elizabeth said as she straightened the chef's shoulders. "Isadel, would you like a moment alone with our darling Hugh?"

  Still not looking at him, she nodded. "Yes."

  "The balcony is convenient. I remember Hugh's father loved to talk on the balcony. Usually it was a correction or two. Then sometimes it wasn't. Good luck to you."

  Isadel turned and led Hugh to the balcony doors. Her feet made no sound, so she wasn't in her boots, but he wasn't sure if she were barefoot.

  Stuffing the paper in his pocket, he followed her out then closed the door behind him.

  He took a moment to savor the sight of her in the sun. So beautiful and so sad.

  "Isadel, I'm sorry Lady Rhodes is putting you through so much."

  "Yes."

  He nudged closer to Isadel. "But, I should sign the papers. In case things go badly and the Almeida Killer strikes—"

  "Stop."

  "I didn't think about how this charade would affect you. I said the next messenger Hart sent would lose their life. I didn't think it would affect their livelihood, but I suppose with no life you can't…" He was running on like a numbskull, and she glared at him like the witless fool he was. "Sorry, Isadel."

  "Fine." Her tone sounded clipped and abrupt.

  He felt more like a heel than a masterful spy. He'd try again. "The balm you made, I feel it has healing properties. Should be a good start for the seeds when they arrive."

  She rolled the damp cloth between her palms. Her gaze lowered, exposing long lashes. "Good."

  Her one word answers, proper without a hint of an accent grated. "You look beautifully appointed. I don't approve of all she's done, but she has dressed you well in preparation for our visitors."

  "Your visitors."

  At least that was two words. He sighed, a short noisy gasp steeped in frustration. "At least that was more words. Should I feel blessed? Not taking too much of Elizabeth's chats on mistress small talk."

  Isadel's blank expression sharpened. Thunderbolts were in her eyes and he loved it.

  "What do you want me to say, Bannerman? That I am happy doing English dress up. That I look forward to dining with Moldona, a man who should have his throat slit, the one with the pearl necklace. Or do you think me already a flirt like Agueda? She would take pleasure at a compliment coming from her killer or her prison guard."

  "You know I have not treated you like a prisoner since that first day. You've had the run of Sandon. This is our truce. I don't want you serving poison from the kitchen. You might miss and get me."

  "So, I will dine with my enemy, while you make eyes at your first love. Maybe you'll pass words in low tones thinking my exotic ears cannot hear."

  "You know it's a man's prerogative to hear what he wishes. Do I detect jealousy in your words?"

  She bit her lip as if that would take back things already said.

  He couldn't help but grin. "So Elizabeth has warned you of Betsy and that angers you? You are a mixed up bag of kindling wood. I'm glad you still like me. This spy business can be trying."

  "Oooh, you, Bannerman." She turned from him and pounded the stone railing. "Do you think I look forward to having Mrs. Moldona denigrate me as an unsuitable companion when her murderous husband is the one who is unsuitable? You're, as you English say, touched in the upper room, having a party hoping all the killers will come."

  "Well, Henry would say a lot of good things come gathering in an upper room."

  "But there's always a Judas in the gathering."

  "Your wit is to be preferred. You must be a burgeoning Protestant. Isadel, I told you, I don't want you serving Moldona. You need to be close enough to confirm that it was him who did your family the injustice. Maybe you'll see the wretch and forgive him."

  Her head spun around like it would detach and roll off the balcony's edge. "Forgiveness for killing the people I care most of? I heard his name clear as this wretched white powder. "

  "I wasn't at Badajoz, but battles get chaotic. Maybe he was the one or maybe he wasn't. You have to be sure when you kill, if you want me to enable it."

  "Don't joke of such things. You're not going to let me shed his foul blood any more than you would teach me how to control the powder. I don't go back on vows. I said I would go through with this. I will. I will be attired properly. I will wear your English gowns and sound English. I will not embarrass your English hide."

  He took the cloth from her balled fist and gently wiped her cheeks and forehead free of the ashen powder, the hideous rouge. "Yes, do so, but with the face I know. The one I like a lot. I've been enough colors with my sickness, even green. I want you looking healthy and brilliant."

  She took the cloth from him and finished the task until her complexion was pristine, chestnut silk. "Lady Rhodes was quite insistent that this is what you'd want. She's given me quite a great deal of instruction, even how to sit on your bed like a good little harlot."

  "No, I'll tell you what to do there." He laughed hoping she'd smile at his offered joke but even her frown disappeared.

  He sobered. "Moldona and his wife will be here tomorrow. The house will be filled with officers and attendants."

  "Yes, your Mrs. Moldona. Will you be taking another mistress so soon?"

  "Isadel?"

  "So now it is your turn for a one word answer."

  "Isadel. I'm a man if you hadn't noticed. I've loved, lost and lost some more. Betsy St. Claire, now Moldona is an old friend, one who cared more for my older brother than me. If there was anything ever between us it was because of Henry. He was my twin."

  "You lost your twin? The loss of a sibling is horrible, but a twin? That seems closer."

  "You and Agueda, were you not close?"

  "Not always. I was the serious sister. She was light and filled with giggles. She couldn't help but attract men, poor silly girl. That's what got her killed, but she wasn't wanton."

  He took Isadel by the shoulders. "You seem to hate a compliment and like to ble
nd into the background. Is it because you don't want to be like her? You think her easy manner earned her death?"

  "She was supposed to stay out of the window. We were waiting for rescue." Isadel turned from him and stared off into the greenery of Sandon. They weren't high enough to see the waters, but he had that feeling like he had in the tower that she was close to an edge, a choice of what to do next.

  He couldn't stand for her to feel so alone and wrapped an arm about her waist drawing her into his chest. "Agueda didn't deserve villainy because she was pretty or even if she flirted. What happened wasn't her fault, no more than it was your fault for not preventing it."

  "I'm dressing up like her. I've seen the way everyone is looking. I'm a harlot to them, even Mrs. Nelson. Now she knows why you were so strict, because I'm a jade, a harlot."

  "Agueda was no harlot for smiling. You're not one either. This is spy work. It's pretend."

  "Bannerman, I might never have a position as a chef again. I worked so hard. My reputation, I was the good daughter." Her voice clouded in tears. "You said death to the next messenger who disturbed you. You are so right. Death to my reputation, my sense of right and wrong. I'm a hypocrite showing off my shoulders to you, for enjoying your compliments. Even twisting up your name hoping you'd do my bidding."

  He lifted his hand and stroked her neck. He slid off his glove and let his finger feel the silk, the beating of blood pulsed the vein beneath so fast, so like his own. "Don't bury yourself in guilt. Don't hide your loveliness. Your sister didn't cause her death or your father's. Evil men are to blame. And you are not evil because you lived."

  A tear rolled onto his wrist. He held Isadel closer as she cried in his arms. Flicking a few pins away, he unraveled her bun and rested his chin on her freed curls. They smelled of violets, not cinnamon. Other than that, this moment was perfect.

  "Must be the powder, the white face powder is making me weepy, Bann-er-man." She pried away from the embrace he wanted to last a little longer. "Sorry."

  "Lady Rhodes is helping you to be in the forefront where I want you to be. This will be your first spy mission, so indulge her in everything but powders and rouge. I want you robust looking." He clasped her hand and spun her to him. "I told you I like you as you are. When are you going to believe me?"

  "Hugh Bann-er-man, you don't mind that your mistress is moody and very brown, barbarian brown?"

  "I love your accent. Nothing is as tempting as my name on your lips. I think you are very fine, brown, round and beautiful."

  "And will I make a good assassin?"

  "Isadel, it's not in you. You're a healer and a bread maker. You are not a killer."

  Her eyes squinted to mere slits. "There is no other way to make this right for Agueda. I've been blaming her for putting Papa and me in a position where we couldn't save her. So sorry, Agueda. If you can hear me, know I'm sorry."

  Against his new waistcoat, Isadel cried old tears. Maybe releasing some of the trapped guilt that should have left her soul a year ago. She cried a little harder, a little longer, and his heart broke a little more for her. "You talk of your father and your sister, but what of your mother?"

  "I told you she died a long time ago."

  He lifted her chin so she wouldn't miss the concern pressing him. "She's alive in the song you hum. You think she'd approve of holding on to this guilt over Agueda or of you seeking to kill another human being?"

  "Are you trying to shame me into giving up revenge? It's my right. And it's the only way to make things right for Agueda."

  In frustration, Hugh shook his head because it would be wrong to shake Isadel. "The girl I've come to admire is not a killer. Don't let guilt make you into one. Moldona is skilled. He'll kill you and be justified, saying you attacked him."

  She took his hand within hers and pulled it to her bosom. "If you admire me, then do it for me."

  Her breathing sounded stuttered and harsh, and part of him wanted to give her everything, but he couldn't kill again. "I cannot. Ask anything else. I would give you my life, Isadel. I have been scraping for a chance to live whole, free of disease. I'd give it all up for you. I'll die for you. I just can't kill again."

  She put her arms about his waist and hugged him. "What do we do now?"

  "We go on with charade. Isadel, I need you. I can't do this without you."

  "I suppose there is no chance you will make Moldona explode, but what about giving me his head on a silver platter? Like Herodias, the Judean princess' enemy."

  Ah, Biblical puns. His twin loved them so. Isadel's wit had returned and it filled his lungs with much needed air. "Moldona's no John the Baptist. He is a skunk and a womanizer for sure, but murderer? I served with him. We've had our differences, but I'm not convinced he would do such evil."

  She patted her eyes, and then gazed up at him with a bit of smile showing. "His head on a platter would be nice."

  "Does this mean you'll dance for me to entice me and convince me to do it? That might have the power to sway me. You warm my heart. My brother, Henry, loved absurd Biblical puns. He'd be proud of yours. He'd also like to see how you'd sway to a violin set. We had similar tastes."

  Behind him, the glass pane rattled. He wanted to ignore it, but knew the annoyance would not flee. "Great, Elizabeth is looking in upon us. Would you mind? I don't want her to think we quarrel…"

  It would take too long to explain, so he reached down to kiss Isadel, but she turned her cheek to him. It felt awkward to not taste her lips, but he still gave her a long peck across her jaw. "Though we differ on Moldona, we are in this charade too far to abandon it. Are you still with me?"

  She nodded and slipped from his arm. "Yes."

  "You were far more amorous when there were explosives. I'd hate to have to resort to such to make you at ease. The house is starting to look nice."

  "Don't worry, Bannerman, your barbarian is ready for every nasty innuendo your guests will offer. We'll catch your killer, though no one cares about mine."

  "Isadel, it's not like that."

  She rolled her shoulder away from his outstretched hand, the first time she'd shunned him. "Lady Rhodes has trained your courtesan well about when to offer favors and when to withhold them."

  Frowning so big, her pretty face looking disappointed, Isadel traipsed back into the bedroom chamber leaving Hugh alone on the balcony.

  How could he get her to understand? It stung his pride to know she felt small and low and believed her pain didn't matter. He'd made things worse by placing the proud woman in an undignified guise as his mistress. Other spies had played such roles, but Isadel wasn't a spy. She was a woman in want of justice. The one thing he couldn't give her, the one thing that mattered.

  Until she received it, she'd never be free. Today, she'd pushed him away, something she hadn't done when they were alone in the kitchen or even when they'd met and she talked to him on the other side of the closet door.

  Angry at the circumstances he had made, he stomped back into the room. "Our guests will be arriving tomorrow. Miss Armijo, Lady Rhodes, I will expect you two to be ready to greet them."

  Elizabeth came alongside Isadel. "We will be ready, and she will be returning to the adjacent suite next to yours tomorrow. It's quite a nice room from what I remember."

  Isadel's frown became more pronounced. "I like the tower room."

  Brushing Isadel's cleaned cheek. "Don't be silly, dear. Your place is at his side. And you need to be close to him, at his beck and call."

  The sound of Elizabeth's prescription for Isadel held as much charm as it did anguish. His pretend mistress cringed, wrinkling her delicate brow. His gut twisted in response. "I like her face fresh and her curls not so severe."

  "If that is what you want, dear. I'll make sure that's what we do. Don't forget the contract."

  Isadel moved away from them as if she was consenting to them talking about her like an object. She put on her father's coat and sat primly on the chaise. The fire had gone from her again.

 
Smiling wide and toothy, Elizabeth took his arm and walked him to the door. "She'll be ready as your hostess. You'll be proud, but sign the papers and give them to me."

  Truthfully, the contract would be a way to protect Isadel's future, but it saddened him nonetheless. It wasn't the chef who had to prove that a mixed raced woman could excel as his hostess. It was Hugh who had to prove that he was a worthy friend who wouldn't compromise her any further.

  Yet, they were in this too deep to quit now. They had a killer or killers to catch. "Elizabeth, you did all of this for my father? You turned yourself inside out to please him?"

  "I made the most of my options, Hugh. My choices made me Mrs. Bannerman and then a countess. Trust me. I know what I am doing, with or without face powder."

  "Thank you, Elizabeth. I think. Unable to catch Isadel's gaze, he pivoted and went to the door feeling as if he walked on soggy ground, as if his boots were sinking. His gut knotted twice, for his fake plan might've ruined something that had begun to feel true.

  Isadel took a breath when Hugh slipped out the door. Part of her wished she hadn't become emotional in front of him. The other part still raged. She didn't come to Sandon to play dress up or to make nice to Moldona over dinner. Agueda would laugh at her and Papa would be so disappointed in her.

  Lady Rhodes sat across from her. "This is your first time being a mistress?"

  Twisting her fingers about themselves, Isadel nodded. "Yes. I don't think I am very good at it."

  The woman laughed as if she'd made a joke, but who could jest at such things.

  "I see it now, Isadel, how much you care for Hugh. I was beginning to think you two were lying about this. What better way to tweak my nose, knowing how he closed me out of his world? I know I am not his mother, but I loved his father very much. I've always wanted the best for him."

  "Why didn't he like you? You don't seem horrid."

  "Flattery is not one of your strong suits, dear. We need to work on that. He and Henry had their own sensibilities. I wasn't borne of wealth. They were loath to admit that I was what the elder Bannerman wanted. I wasn't much older than them."