Wallis stepped out of the shade of the awning and the wind caught the hem of her blue and green agate-patterned dress. She staggered with the gentle roll of the yacht and grasped the back railing to steady herself as she came to sit in the deck chair beside Amelia. “Glorious day, isn’t it?”

“I hate to leave it.” Amelia’s tan would fade in Paris, and the days were already getting shorter, but she was eager to see Robert again.

“Me too, but I have something to make your Paris return a little sweeter.” She slid a letter out of her dress pocket and handed it to Amelia.

Amelia held the letter tight to keep it from blowing away. It was from her American lawyer but addressed to Wallis. She had no idea why he was writing to her or how she’d failed to see it in the post. She opened and read it, unable to believe it. “You paid my legal debts!”

“We negotiated down the bill in return for payment in full. In the future, if anything else arises, you’ll speak with Lord Jowitt, the Duke’s solicitor. He’s already on retainer and won’t cost you a penny.”

“This is too much. I can’t accept it. I’ll pay you back, I will.”

“Don’t even think about it. It’s a gift. I want to help you.” Wallis clasped Amelia’s hand, forgetting their pact to be formal in front of others. “You’ve been like a daughter to me, someone to share my strange and hard-won knowledge with, and you’ve used it well. I’m so pleased with how confident and capable you’ve become.” Wallis beamed at her with the same pride she’d shown at Amelia’s Oldfields graduation when she’d welcomed her as a fellow alumnus. It meant more to Amelia than the paid debts. “I can’t protect you from heartache or loneliness but I can help give you financial security and perhaps keep you from making a mess of your life the way I did.”

“It all turned out in the end.”

“It could have been better, but I was so chummy with uncertainty, I almost preferred it to security, the thrill of it, at least, and I practically ran after it. I don’t want you to develop the same bad habit. You’re too good for that and the likes of me, and I adore you more than you realize.”

Amelia threw her arms around Wallis, saying with her embrace what she couldn’t put into words. Wallis didn’t jerk away, but wrapped her thin arms around Amelia and rubbed her back the way Aunt Bessie used to do. Amelia held on tight to her cousin, inhaling the fruity notes of her Teo Cabanel perfume, touched to know how much she really meant to Wallis. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for everything you’ve done for me.”

Wallis sat back and held Amelia at arm’s length, her blue eyes sparkling with the same unshed tears stinging Amelia’s. “You can start by finding someone to replace Mr. Schafranek. Hiring a new chauffeur will give you practice for when you have employees of your own one day.”

“I’ll hire the best one I can find.”

“I know you will.”

“Darling, you have to hear what Herr Goering said about Queen Elizabeth. You’ll die of laughter,” the Duke called to Wallis.

“I’m coming.” Wallis patted Amelia’s arms then let go, the intimacy gone but not the joy softening her face. She staggered back to the shade, leaving Amelia to dream about a future she couldn’t have imagined a year and a half ago. The long shadow of Jackson’s crimes receded into the background, finally a part of her past instead of a weight on her present and future. It was more than she could’ve ever asked for, and none of it would’ve been possible without Wallis.

Chapter Fourteen

Paris, November 1938

“The German diplomat that Polish man shot died this morning,” Robert said from across the Café Capucines table.

Amelia pushed her half-finished croissant away, her appetite gone. “I met Herr vom Rath at a party for Herr von Ribbentrop last year. He was nice and not much older than us.”

“Everyone at the Chancery is on edge because of it. We wonder if one of us might be next.”

“Don’t say that.” She reached across the table and took his hand. He caressed her palm with his thumb, sending little shivers racing through her. She wanted to slide up beside him and lay her head on his chest and have him tell her everything would be all right. Instead, she let go of him, aware of the diplomatic staff sitting around them and pretending not to watch. She didn’t want to start any more rumors than their regular breakfasts might have already aroused, unwilling to face them or her deepening feelings for Robert.

“It’s worse. The Germans unleashed their thugs on the Jews last night in retaliation.” Robert added sugar to his coffee. “The reports coming in from Berlin are terrible. They destroyed businesses, set fire to synagogues, and killed a number of people.”

Amelia thought of the twisted rage on the faces of the soldiers who’d stood guard in front of the Jewish shops in Berlin. She could imagine them attacking their fellow countrymen. “Is anything being done about it?”

“International condemnation and outrage. President Roosevelt ordered the German ambassador home and there are rumors he won’t appoint a new one. The Germans are surprised by how quickly this has turned countries against them.”

“Let’s hope international pressure is enough to keep Herr Hitler in check.”

He shook his head to say he didn’t believe it any more than she did. So much for the bonne chance she’d wished him while he’d been in Italy. He might wear the tie tack but it hadn’t helped him or anyone slow down the wave of war threatening to crash over Europe. Despite Mr. Chamberlain signing the Munich Agreement with Herr Hitler at the end of September, the tension in Europe was increasing instead of simmering down.

What to do about Germany was the talk of the evening at Lady Williams-Taylor’s cocktail party in her impressive Paris townhouse. Amelia stood on the periphery of the guests in one of her pale pink Schiaparelli dresses shot with gold stripes along the wide skirt. She usually entertained a host of conversation partners at these events. Her status as Wallis’s cousin drew people to her but no one was interested in chatting her up tonight. They were too busy talking politics.

“Mr. Chamberlain was right to negotiate for peace,” the Duke insisted to Lady Williams-Taylor, Mr. Wenner-Gren, and a coterie of people in designer dresses and tuxedos. They held highball glasses and cigarette holders while debating the possibility of war as if speculating on a horse race and not something capable of ruining millions of lives. “He has the right idea. Give Herr Hitler the land he needs for his people and keep us out of war. Let the Germans have Czechoslovakia, it isn’t a real country anyway, simply something President Wilson created out of whole cloth with that damned Treaty of Versailles.”

“There’s no need to swear, darling,” Wallis reprimanded, smiling apologetically at the others.

“If there’s any time to swear it’s now. Those bloody fools in London will get us into a mess over this little bit of nothing. If I could’ve negotiated with Germany about Czechoslovakia ages ago and saved Mr. Chamberlain the bother, I would have. Herr Hitler is not a madman but a head of state to be reasoned with.”

“Mrs. Montague?” A voice pulled Amelia’s attention away from the conversation. “I’m Miss Heastie. Lady Williams-Taylor said I had to meet you.” A colored woman in a fine emerald-green satin sheath dress, her British accent tinged by a slight Caribbean flavor, shook Amelia’s hand.

“I’m glad to finally meet you. Lady Williams-Taylor has told me about you.” She understood why Miss Heastie hadn’t accompanied her employer to Berlin. Herr Hitler had no more love of colored people than he did of Jews. His fury over Jesse Owens winning the gold medal at the 1936 Berlin Olympics was legendary.

“How are you enjoying the party?” Miss Heastie asked.

“I’ve heard a number of very interesting things since I’ve been here.”

“They do love their gossip. Speaking of which, have you heard Mr. Dalí has taken up with Mademoiselle Chanel?”

“Madame Schiaparelli will be jealous.”

“Won’t she just. Tell Her Royal Highness as soon as possible. Employers love it when you give them juicy news, especially when they’re among the first to know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” It was good advice she’d never heard from Mrs. Bedaux but she supposed employers liked to believe their staff didn’t gossip about them. Another of the many illusions everyone maintained to keep society running smoothly.

“Want to get away for a few minutes? I know where we can take a breather.”

“I don’t know if I can. Her Royal Highness might need me.”

“They’re pretty well occupied and won’t miss us. One of the footmen will find us if they do.”

With Wallis deep in conversation with Lady Williams-Taylor and Mr. Wenner-Gren, now was as good a chance as any. “All right.”

Amelia followed Miss Heastie through the house, pausing at the study door to look at the large portrait of Herr Hitler staring menacingly out at her from over the fireplace. “Lady Williams-Taylor has interesting taste in art.”

Miss Heastie rolled her eyes. “That, she does.”

“How do you manage it?”

“The same way you and every other secretary does. We take the good with the bad, and there’s more good to Lady Williams-Taylor than bad. She was the only one willing to hire and train me after I graduated from high school. Most of society wasn’t as open-minded as she was.”

Odd, considering her political leanings. “I understand. Her Royal Highness isn’t perfect but she’s done more for me than almost anyone else.”

“I knew we’d get on splendidly.” Miss Heastie led Amelia into the kitchen, where the staff greeted Miss Heastie with happy waves and smiles. “Señor Garcia, let me know if anyone is looking for me. You know where to find me.”

“Sí, señorita,” the chef answered with a wink.