“I can’t explain over the phone but I need somewhere safe to stay.”

“Get here as soon as you can and you can bed down with us. Everyone’s living here now.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“I’ll meet you at the gates. Be careful, honey.”

“I will.”

Amelia hung up and, under the bartender’s disapproving stare, walked back out into the dimming evening light. She paused in the doorway to survey the quiet street. The Mercedes was gone. She started off, walking quickly but not fast enough to call attention to herself as she passed quiet or empty buildings. She barely noticed them until she turned the corner into a square and saw the pocked and mutilated brick and the large crimson stain on the ground in front of it beside a discarded cap. People had been lined up here and shot.

What the hell am I doing in Paris? She wanted to sit down on a nearby bench and weep but she couldn’t. She had to stay strong, to keep her wits about her. She’d find a way out of this the way she’d found her way out of her troubles before.

You never found a way out. You simply changed one rotten situation for another.

She kept going despite the doubts and fears, crossing the square as the evening darkness deepened around her. The streetlights didn’t come on, the electricity, like petrol, confiscated and controlled by the Germans. Theodore’s and Alice Gordon’s warnings about Wallis echoed with each footstep on the pavement but she couldn’t let them stop her or slow her down. She had to get to the Chancery. She could berate herself when she was safe.

She finally reached the Champs-Élysées. It was only a short walk to the Chancery from here but it felt as if she’d stepped into a whole other world. The bloodred Nazi banners that’d dominated Berlin swathed Paris, including the large Nazi flag hanging from the Arc de Triomphe. The sidewalk cafés rang with the laughter of German troops enjoying cappuccinos and ordering the French waiters around. The chic Parisian ladies had been replaced by young soldiers buying presents for sweethearts or taking pictures in front of the Arc de Triomphe. The streets were empty of cars except for German military vehicles. The few Parisians who dared to be out walked with their heads down, careful to avoid eye contact with their conquerors. Their faces were forlorn and mournful, beaten down by this start to a long and difficult road. The only consolation was the lack of fighting. The German soldiers were too busy sightseeing to shoot, and judging by what she saw, Ambassador Bullitt had succeeded in sparing the city from the destruction the Germans had wrought in Rotterdam.

She picked up her pace, about to cut through the Jardin des Champs-Élysées when the black Mercedes pulled to a stop in front of her.

Three German officers in dark uniforms with the death’s head insignia on their caps stepped out and surrounded her.

“Please come with us,” the tallest one said in perfect British English.

“I’m an American citizen.” She dug through her pocket for her papers.

“We know who you are, Frau Montague.”

She drew on every ounce of poise and secretarial training to hide her fear. “Then you know I have the proper papers, issued by your government and arranged by the Duchess of Windsor with Herr von Ribbentrop, to travel freely in Paris.” She handed him the papers.

He barely glanced at them before sliding them into his breast pocket. “Come with us, please.”

The other two men waited patiently for her to comply or resist. They didn’t seize her or shackle her but there was no mistaking they’d get her in that car one way or another. She’d be at their mercy once she was inside it, but she couldn’t resist. She’d seen the bullet holes and blood on the street. She knew what they were capable of and allowed them to lead her into the Mercedes.

“What’s in the safe, Frau Montague?” SS-Standartenführer Helmut Knochen asked from across the gilded and marble-topped tea table. He wore a black uniform with an Iron Cross hanging from one pocket. He spoke English with a mild German accent, and with his neatly combed and parted hair and pleasing manners, he looked like the many gentlemen she’d met in Berlin or at various parties before the war. Except this was no cocktail party.

She’d sat alone in the large salon of the Hôtel Lyon-Broussac for three hours, according to the gilded cherub clock on the sideboard. She’d been here once before when she and Wallis had joined Lady Williams-Taylor and Eugenie for a farewell tea last October. Lady Williams-Taylor admired Herr Hitler but not enough to stick around and risk his jackboots treading over her. The socialite had smartly decamped for Nassau. If Wallis had possessed half as much sense, she and Amelia might be in England or America and then Wallis wouldn’t be on the road somewhere in the south and Amelia wouldn’t be here trying not to shiver in fear.

If I’d possessed any sense, I never would’ve allowed Wallis to lead me into this mess in the first place. There was no time to think about that. She had to stay sharp if she wanted to survive. “I don’t know. Her Royal Highness didn’t give me the combination to the safe, but I imagine it’s only her jewelry inside.”

“I find it hard to believe she sent you all the way to Paris for jewels.”

“She’s very particular about her things. Ask Herr von Ribbentrop, he’ll tell you. He’s a close friend of hers and gave his personal assurance that I’d be safe. I’m sure Herr von Ribbentrop won’t appreciate his orders being ignored.”

“There’s nowhere in Paris safer for you than here, and we’ve treated you well.”

“I haven’t had a thing to eat or drink since I arrived.”

“An oversight and my apologies.” He snapped his fingers and the young officer standing guard at the door left. “We’ve only just taken up residence and things are, as the English like to say, in sixes and sevens.”

“Establishing a new household is exhausting.” She spoke to him as if they were talking about the difficulties of running a large château, not the occupation of Paris, eager to keep him in a good mood. She didn’t want to see the angry side of him. When Amelia didn’t arrive at the Chancery, Susan would tell Robert and he’d find a way to get her out of this, assuming he could do it in time. Princess Hohenberg had disappeared. The same thing might happen to her.

“The Windsors left for Spain the same day you left for Paris. The last anyone heard from them was in Perpignan, near the Spanish border. According to Italian radio reports, Prime Minister Churchill has ordered their arrest if they enter England, so they can’t be there. Do you know where they are?”

“All I know is I’m supposed to meet them in Lisbon. I left before they told me how they were getting there.” It didn’t seem possible for them to get lost. They had a habit of making themselves conspicuous everywhere they went. She also didn’t know what the Germans expected to get out of her. Other than being Wallis’s cousin, she knew nothing of value.

“Our contacts in Lisbon say they haven’t arrived.”

“Then I can’t tell you where they are.”

The soldier returned with a bowl of meat stew and a crystal goblet of water. He set it in front of her with the flourish of a waiter, hinting at his former occupation.

“Thank you.” Amelia smiled at him and he hesitated, thrown off by her cordiality, before returning to his post by the door.

Amelia ate with dainty bites, refusing to fall on the food like a ravenous dog, determined to maintain her manners and composure in the face of her fears and this awful situation. The clock chimed the half hour. “This is very good.”

“We enjoy only the best Paris has to offer.”

Easy to do when you march in and take it. Amelia held her pleasant smile. “If you’re looking for the best of everything, there’s a young woman at the American Chancery, Susan Harper. She knows all the best places for wine, chocolate, something for your wife, everything. Speak to her if you get a chance, tell her I sent you. She’s the most connected woman in Paris. It’s how I used to get everything for Their Royal Highnesses, and at a deal. They like fine things too.”

“I’ll be sure to speak to her.”

With any luck, he’d drop Amelia’s name and give Susan and Robert some clue as to what had happened to her.

Another officer entered the room and whispered something to Herr Knochen. He nodded then smiled at Amelia. “I’m afraid I must end our little chat. You’ll be shown to a room upstairs where you’ll stay during your time with us.”

“How long do you think that will be?” Amelia asked, as if waiting for a florist to finish a boutonniere for an evening dance. “I’m sure Her Royal Highness is eager to have me back.”

She never wanted to see Wallis again but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t use her name to try and win favors or her freedom.

“I can’t say, but once we’re in contact with the Duke and Duchess, we’ll send word of your delay.”

“That’s very kind of you. Might I write to Herr von Ribbentrop to let him know you’re taking excellent care of me while I’m your guest?”

“We’ll see, Frau Montague.”

The new man and the young soldier escorted her through the lobby and up the stairs to a guest room on the first floor. Her satchel waited for her on the bench in front of the double bed, the zipper only half closed. Clearly they’d riffled through it because everything inside was a mess. She left it and lay down, too tired and on edge to undress. Thankfully, she was in a room and not some dank cellar. For a prison this was the best she could expect but it was still a prison and her situation could change at any minute.

Outside, the nightingale songs were accompanied by the voices of German soldiers walking along the elegant Avenue Foch. Whatever waited for her tomorrow would be easier to face if she got some sleep, but fear, disappointment, and disbelief tumbled through her, tensing her already frazzled nerves.

All I wanted was love and a little success. All I’ve been is hurt and betrayed. She rolled on her side and squeezed her eyes closed tight against the pain. She thought she’d been alone before. This was worse.

Exhaustion eventually overcame her and she drifted into a light and fitful sleep broken by a piercing scream. Amelia sat bolt upright as the horrific yell sounded again and again. She hurried to the window, looking to see if someone outside was hurt, but she couldn’t see anyone in the faint moonlight.

It’s coming from downstairs.