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

by Vanessa Riley

  Gulping his goblet of water, he turned to the other side of the table. Mrs. Nev and Elizabeth were steeped in conversation. Elizabeth looked well arrayed in a peach colored gown. Her soft blue eyes drifted to the door ever so often. Was she waiting on his father or Henry? They both were here the last time she threw a big party in Sandon.

  Hugh made his voice a low whisper. "Well done, Lady Rhodes. Thank you."

  She dimpled and gazed at him and perhaps Isadel too, smiling like a worldly godmother or a bawd owner. "My pleasure, dear Hugh, my pleasure. Miss Armijo is a treasure."

  "Well, Bannerman," Major Handle raised his glass. "I must be the first to compliment you. Rumor had it you'd lost your mind and become reclusive. Nothing could be further from the truth, unless loss of reason can be equated to falling in love. Let us all raise our cups to Bannerman and Miss Armijo."

  The man had always had a backward way of dealing in compliments. Handle like half of the men in the room wore cranberry colored regimental. They were still active in the fight. All had futures... Hugh's gaze swayed toward Isadel again. She had a future, but which path would she choose? Always on the run or one enslaved to guilt?

  Mrs. Nev, who made gossip her past time, looked over her quizzing glass in Isadel's direction. "I hear Miss Armijo used to be your chef. My, that's convenient. That's why I'm an advocate for an older chef."

  Hugh put down his goblet. "I don't know. I think Miss Armijo is the right age."

  The snickering that followed satisfied his funny bone, but he could see Mrs. Nev readying for the kill.

  "Miss Armijo, do you think it will be a great transition for you managing Sandon like a normal lady…of the ton?"

  "Why normal?" Isadel asked with a voice that sounded clear and sweet. "I think Mr. Bannerman appreciates differences. Why else would he be unattached until now? And you know what they say? The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. At that, I am uniquely gifted, not normal at all."

  Mrs. Nev's cheeks reddened even as her husband nodded.

  Lieutenant Nev directed Phipps to refill his crystal goblet. Same old Nev, a lover of fine wines. He plucked the glass. "Bannerman, when are we going to discuss the reason we are here? Almeida."

  "Gentlemen, we'll do that in the morning in my study. No need to bore the ladies."

  A round of nods and a few here here's sounded. They were the same. Entertainment first, and then serious business in the morn.

  With bags under his blue-grey eyes and more grey in his dark hair, Moldona looked older than the year or so, since Hugh had last seen him. His hands possessed a little shake as he dragged his knife across the plate. "Miss Armijo, in what part of Spain did you live?" His lisp sounded stronger than Hugh remembered.

  Her forehead creased as she said, "Badajoz."

  Betsy gasped. "My husband has told me of the savage fighting that took place there. It mirrored Almeida."

  The table seemed to quiet at the mention of the city.

  Isadel patted her mouth with a napkin. "The battle was horrid."

  "How did you get out of there?" Betsy picked up her fan. Her tone changed from light to almost accusatory. "Did Mr. Bannerman rescue you? Is that when you two met?"

  Isadel's face, which had remained somewhat unreadable, became focused and a smile bloomed. "No, Lord Wellesley remembered the good work of my father and saw to our rescue."

  If Hugh didn't know better, he could attest to a bit of spite salted into her words. And Betsy seemed crestfallen. Had she tried to imply that Hugh had courted Isadel and her at the same time? Even if he had been so foul, being married at least a year, why did it matter to her?

  Women and the games they play. He could not help but admire his little chef. He reached over, grasped her hand and pressed it to his mouth. "I think she found me. I am a lucky man, and one who is ready to dance."

  He rose and escorted her through the sea of dinner guests to his drawing room. Couples filtered in behind them. Lady Rhodes had the floors chalked as always. Soon music overtook the room. He leaned down to his chef. "I'm proud of you, Isadel."

  "Why, because I haven't killed your dinner guest?"

  "Well, that too, but you never play games. You are very direct. I suppose I like that. I am sorry to have brought you into this spy business."

  "Hugh, there is no luxuries in lies. I'm not one to fool myself."

  A tap to his shoulder, made him stop. Upon seeing Moldona, he knew it was her time.

  "May I cut in, old man?" Moldona stood there at his side, looking every bit a hungry scoundrel.

  "You can have the dance if the lady is so inclined. Are you, Miss Armijo?"

  The look in her brown eyes spoke of a battle being waged. She grasped Hugh's hand maybe for a final time. "Yes, I will dance with you, Mr. Moldona, when this set is done."

  Hating the smirk on the braggart's face, Hugh whisked Isadel away. If this dance would be their first and their last, it should mean something.

  Isadel wanted to be lost in Hugh's arms, wanted a second with him smiling at her to last a lifetime, but the moment she'd waited for was about to arrive.

  "Well, my dear, you are the hit of Sandon's ball."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "You've caught more than one eye."

  "Even a murderer's attention, Hugh?"

  "You have others besides Moldona. I might have to fight them off with a stick."

  "We both know you won't. Your new nonviolent stance, remember?"

  "I said I wouldn't kill, Isadel." He spun fast and turned and caught her for the next part of the jig. "But I can be quite effective with a stick."

  "Sir, I should take a stick to you."

  "Why?" His lopsided grin grew.

  "Why didn't you tell me he had a lisp?"

  "You never asked."

  "You let me run on and on about it being Moldona, about hearing the clear tones and conversations."

  "Isadel, I don't know if he is or isn't guilty. You and you alone must be sure. I've been angry and aggrieved just like you, but I've learned that you have to be willing to live with the consequences."

  She moved out of step but quickly recovered. "You just don't think I can do it. Call me a coward."

  He pulled her close in time with the music. "I'll call you strong. The woman I love."

  The music ended and he had the nerve to leave her breathless. He put her hand on his arm and led her to the side. "The horse is in the last stall, Isadel Armijo. I will keep them off your trail as long as I can."

  He bowed and left her. He walked over to Lady Rhodes and Mrs. Moldona.

  Before she could fill her lungs, Moldona came to her with an outstretched hand.

  As the violins started, she fingered the knife in her reticule before she took his arm.

  "So, you are from Spain, Mrs. Armijo?" His words hissed on the S's. Why didn't she remember that?

  "Yes."

  Moldona moved her to slowed music and changed sides as the dance prescribed. If she timed it correctly she could have the knife to his chest in the next exchange.

  "Have you been in England long?"

  No longer eyeing the spot that would be the third or fourth rib, she lifted her head to him and watched his greedy eyes burn into her form. "Yes, from Badajoz, sir. I said that earlier."

  He reared back. "Now don't get angry. I know your kind to be full of fire, Bannerman is a lucky man, but luck runs out."

  Did he just threaten Hugh? She snatched her fingers free. "I think this dance is over after all."

  "Now don't be that way." He grasped her palm again. "Badajoz was a disaster." His frown became very pronounced, as did his hiss of the s and j's. "I suppose you are glad that you are away from there. The siege took a mighty toll on both sides."

  "Which sides? The horrid French or the horrid liberators? Funny, I could not tell which side was good."

  "I suppose it looks that way. War does things. It changes people. Sometimes you forget what is good and decent."

  Was that an excuse
? Were a few polite words over dinner to change the things that took Agueda's life? She put her hand on her knife and folded her fingers about it so taut that she felt the blood of revenge pulsing in her veins. She pushed her hand to his side, with her finger resting on the switch. All she could think was, Agueda, I love you sister. I will kill to make this right for you. "Do you know what the siege did to the innocent, Mr. Moldona?"

  He stopped dancing. "As much damage as it did to those who lived."

  "No, my sister was killed, humbled by English soldiers. She was innocent just smiling at the men her papa said was in the right in the war. How is that damage worse when you live?"

  Her reticule swung close to his side again. She should stab him then disappear. All she had to do was flick the switch.

  "I am sorry, Miss Armijo," Moldona said. "No greater cost is the loss of a loved one. I'm sorry."

  The hiss of S's sliced at her ear, cutting at her conscience. She lifted her reticule again, but she couldn't kill him. Not remembering hearing a lisp, Isadel wasn't sure anymore of Moldona's guilt. Hugh was right. She couldn't kill if she had doubt. She lowered her hand. "I'm tired. Thank you for this dance."

  He clutched her wrist. "Meet me tonight, Miss Armijo."

  "What?"

  "In Bannerman's study. There is much to tell you."

  "No." She pulled away.

  "Please. As the daughter of the physician Armijo, you must know."

  She froze in her steps. Lost in her thoughts, her doubts, she didn't know what to do, not until she heard the tune the violinist now played. The music found her, reached into that dark place she had enclosed her heart and showed her light. It did not matter that she couldn't kill Moldona. It mattered that she finally defended her sister, the girl who wore pearls and smiled as bright as the sun.

  "I think this dance is mine." Hugh was again at her side. He claimed her palm in one hand and put another about her waist, then moved her into the hall. They were alone, all alone, except Mama's tune. It still played in Sandon and in Isadel's heart.

  "Breathe, chef. Who can think of killing, when there is dancing to be done?"

  "You knew. You knew I couldn't kill him. I spared him like you spared him."

  "It doesn't matter. You're no killer, Isadel. That's what I've been trying to tell you."

  "I've been telling you that you'll live, but you don't listen either." She pried away from him, but he caught her wrist, laced his fingers with hers. "If only for one dance, let's forget about anger or killing or the past." Against his chest, he held her. Warm and secure, he kept her and she relearned to breathe, taking in air with him, in and out, in and out, humming Mama's tune.

  With her composure restored, she stepped away. "I must leave here. What I came for no longer exists."

  "When are you going to stop running, Isadel? You had a change of heart. You offered mercy. That is not shameful."

  "I need some air, Hugh." She left him in the hall and headed to the tower room. Before she could get to the stairs, she ran into Moldona again.

  "Whoa, Miss Armijo. I can lend a sympathetic ear, but meet me later in Bannerman's study. I know him to be less than generous to his women. He's dangerous, Miss, and should be put in his place."

  "Leave him alone."

  "I will if you meet me in his study later tonight. What I have to say about your father is very important."

  Her face surely riddled with confusion. The man had the nerve to make a play for her as if her affections would change so easily. And if he only knew the venom inside for him or the idea of him as a villain, he would never come near her. "There is more party for you, Mr. Moldona. Be grateful for that."

  On shaky legs, she navigated up the stairs. She didn't head to the tower but to the room adjacent to Hugh's. She needed to watch out for him. She might not be able to prove Moldona killed her family, but she'd stop him from hurting Hugh if the man was the Almeida Killer.

  Chapter Thirteen: Truth and Consequence

  When Isadel fled upstairs, Hugh wanted to chase after her, but he couldn't. A house full of guests, the Almeida Killer on the loose—any of those could be an excuse to say his hands were full, but he needed her to stand on her own, to find a reason to stay.

  Phipps passed him. The man looked as if he was looking for a surprise attack. "I see your fiancé has left."

  "Her work here was done. She couldn't kill Moldona."

  "You don't seem happy, Bannerman."

  Not knowing how things would be betwixt Isadel and himself, Hugh rubbed at his brow. "I'm not. The grumblings of being targeted swept about the drawing room. The flames were mostly diminished by the second round of port which the servants happily dished."

  "I have first watch," Phipps said. "Go on. Maybe you should console a pretty great chef."

  "Release the musicians and make sure Lady Rhodes retires safely." Knowing his man would handle everything, he trudged out of the drawing room. Maybe he should try to console Isadel or at least keep her safe. That feeling in his gut that something would happen grew.

  Moldona leaned outside the room. He drank from a crystal goblet. "Nice gathering, Bannerman."

  "Things are winding down. You should be off to bed."

  The man shrugged and took another sip. "I'll be off in a few moments. I'm a little on edge. Don't want to keep Mrs. Moldona awake."

  Hugh folded his arms behind his back. "It's good you are considering her."

  "I am. I've been completely honest with her about everything."

  "Everything?"

  Moldona nodded. "Yes. I thought we'd found renewal, even took her to a private island near France. But as soon as we came to Sandon, she grew distant."

  France. Junot was killed in France. Maybe guilty Moldona didn't know.

  "Maybe you can speak with her, Bannerman. She was always a favorite of yours and Henry's."

  It was difficult to balance his suspicions about Moldona, the desire to have him guilty of something for Isadel's sake, with the humbling tone coming from his rival. For once, the man sounded sympathetic.

  Maybe the love of a good woman like Betsy changed Moldona. Hugh knew loving a good woman had changed him. "I'll leave it to you. I've my own woman to speak with. I'll see you at the briefing."

  With a shrug and another slurp, Moldona nodded. "Bannerman, I always thought you strange or maybe that was jealousy talking. You are lucky, and I hope you never grow tired of your spitfire."

  He didn't respond at such a silly notion. How could one grow tired of an enigma wrapped in lace?

  "Get some sleep." Hugh climbed the stairs. He thought about Isadel and headed to the tower. He opened the door and found the room vacant. Like the rest of Sandon, it was neat as a pen, very much the observatory it had always been before he let things degrade, before Isadel. He moved to the window and stood looking out to eternity, the edges of the treeline falling onto the sea.

  Henry, his father, all the ghosts of his past—they'd been banished, but now he'd be alone.

  How long he stood there gazing, he did not know. But there was peace in his soul. He could be alone, not that he wanted to be, but he felt whole. The disease of guilt wouldn't eat at him anymore.

  The scent of cinnamon kissed his nose. He turned and Isadel stood behind him.

  "When I first found you, Hugh, this tower guided me. I knew I could find the man who could help me."

  Bundled in her father's jacket over the fancy cream gown, she never looked more beautiful. "Did you find him, Isadel, or just a placeholder?"

  She folded her arms about her, but then eased them to her side. "Perhaps you can sway me again by playing my mother's song."

  Wanting to take a step to her, he glued his feet to the floor. She had to stop running and come to him. "Emotional blackmail is another tool of a spy. I wanted you to make the right decision, but I am not above giving you a little help."

  "I should strike him down now without the benefit of violins. Goodnight." She walked away and his resolve crumbled. He followed her
to his room but didn't catch her. She slipped into the adjacent room and slammed the door.

  He put his head against the door. "It was wrong to manipulate you, but I wanted you to do what was right so we could have a future together." He threw off his jacket and undid the waistcoat that had become constricting. "Stubborn woman. Sometimes I might know better."

  One sleep shirt tossed over his head, he fell into his bed. Then he heard her moving about. Famous Isadel pacing. He wanted to push the door open, but he'd done that before. The intrusion had done nothing but make her more withdrawn. She was much more attentive when she opened the door, when she decided she wanted him.

  About to rip off his gloves, he stopped. Maybe she was waiting for him. He wrapped the door humming her tune. "Except for being beautiful, you are an absolutely horrible mistress."

  The door cracked a little. "I didn't want to be a mistress, just a chef. And remember you elevated me. According to your customs, a gentleman cannot take it back."

  Her voice sounded bright, too proper. She wanted to speak more. She wanted him even if it was to air her grievances. Grinning, he sank into Henry's reading chair by the window. "Why don't you come here so we can see what a gentleman will or will not do?"

  She opened the door fully and marched inside. A simple chemise claimed her form, but her father's coat cinched her waist, that very seize-it-never letting-go waist. "What type of gentleman is your Moldona? He wanted to meet with me in your study. His wife is upstairs. I spared him. Isn't that enough?"

  Hair swinging from side to side as she paced, she didn't seem humored or like a woman that was flattered. Isadel was no Betsy. A fact he appreciated more and more.

  "Are you listening, Hugh? The bounder, that fool. Doesn't he know I want him dead, not to end up in his bed.

  "His wife must be mortified."

  Hands to her hips, Isadel stopped moving. "Is that all you are concerned about how his bored wife must feel?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Mrs. Moldona is desperate for your attention. You haven't noticed how she fawns over you, waits for you to see her? Only then does she pay attention to her horrid husband."