Harsh German voices barked out commands in the brief spaces between the howls and Amelia crawled into bed and pulled the covers tight around her. She covered her ears with her hands until a single shot split the night and the screams stopped. The silence afterward was far more terrifying.

Chapter Twenty

Paris, July 5, 1940

“Did you tell Her Royal Highness I’ve been delayed in joining her in Lisbon?” It’d been two weeks since Amelia’s arrest and the monotonous days had melded one into another as she’d waited in dread for something to happen.

“We sent word through the German Ambassador to Spain while they were in Madrid,” Herr Knochen said as he brought her the British newspapers. After the third day of nothing to do, she’d asked for something to read and he’d granted her request. It helped pass the time, especially on the nights when the screaming kept her up. It didn’t happen every night but it had happened three more times since her arrival. She hadn’t had the courage to ask about it, pretending every morning when she saw her captors that she was fine and nothing was wrong. It was an exhausting and demanding performance. “We’ve received no reply.”

“She probably hasn’t had a chance to cable or write back, what with all the confusion of moving from Madrid to Lisbon.” That lie was as much to raise her flagging spirits as to convince him she wasn’t worried. Once the Windsors had reemerged in a small village in France, the newspapers had followed their every move, allowing Amelia to track their progress from France to Madrid to Lisbon. The reports of their Italian capture and Prime Minister Churchill threatening to arrest them had been false but it wouldn’t be long before they moved on to England. The possibility that Wallis and the Duke might abandon her to rot in German custody the way they’d left Mr. Metcalf to find his way home kept her up on the nights the tortured men didn’t.

“Would you be so kind as to send word to her in Lisbon?”

“I’ll cable Baron von Hoyningen-Huene today.” He clasped his hands in front of him, more amused this morning than the previous ones. “I now understand your employer’s fascination with her things. She had the Americans fetch a certain green swimsuit she left behind in the South of France. Apparently, she cannot live without it. It’s no surprise she sent you to collect her jewels. I must thank you for your recommendation of Miss Harper. I paid her a visit at the American Chancery and she was most helpful with recommendations for wine merchants.”

“I’m glad I could help.” Her spirits soared even while she kept her expression serene. At least Susan had some idea of where she was and could tell Robert. Whether he could do anything to get her out of here remained to be seen but it was the first hope she’d enjoyed in days.

“May I write to some friends? Mrs. Bedaux, perhaps?” She never hesitated to drop names of the influential people she knew. She hoped one might do the trick and impress him enough to release her. So far, it hadn’t. “It’ll help pass the time.”

“I’ll send up some paper.”

He did and she wrote to Mrs. Bedaux, telling her in the mildest terms possible that she was at the Hotel Lyon-Broussac as Herr Knochen’s guest and it would be wonderful if she’d visit. Amelia didn’t complain about her imprisonment or suggest Mrs. Bedaux use her influence to have her released. The Germans were sure to read what she wrote before sending it.

Mrs. Bedaux arrived at the Hotel Lyon-Broussac three days later with a box of chocolates and some magazines.

“You’re looking well, Mrs. Montague.” French occupation hadn’t dampened Mrs. Bedaux’s sense of style but it had taken a toll on Amelia, who had no makeup and dark circles under her eyes, and still wore her wrinkled traveling suit.

“Herr Knochen has been very kind to me.” She didn’t dare say what she really thought about him. The guard at the salon door spoke French and was sure to report their conversation to his superiors. She hoped he didn’t speak English and switched to that language but she was still careful with her choice of words. “He’s contacting Her Royal Highness in Lisbon on my behalf but I’d hoped you could write to her about my situation.”

“She already knows of it and that you’re perfectly fine.”

“I’m not perfectly fine.” She was about to jump out of her seat.

“But you are. No one has hurt you and no one will. All you need to do is sit tight and wait.”

“For what?” What the devil was she caught up in?

“His Majesty’s Government is being particularly difficult about Their Royal Highnesses leaving Europe when they’d prefer to stay a little while longer.”

“Why do they want to stay?” It made no sense. Nothing did anymore.

“I can’t say much except all will soon be revealed. If you thought your position was grand before, it will be nothing compared to what she’ll offer you when this is over. All you need to do is your part, which is to be patient and wait. Your being here gives Her Royal Highness a legitimate reason to remain in Lisbon. Now I must go. I’m expected at Mademoiselle Chanel’s Ritz suite at noon.”

Mrs. Bedaux stood and Amelia grabbed her arm. “Her sending me here was never about the safe, was it?” She’d sent her to Paris knowing what would happen, using her for whatever end she was trying to achieve. Jackson had been bad but he’d never dragged her into his schemes. Amelia had practically walked right into Wallis’s plans. You fool.

Fear flashed through Mrs. Bedaux’s eyes and Amelia let go of her, afraid she’d call for the guard.

“Remember your place, dear.” Mrs. Bedaux straightened the wrinkled Chanel knit sleeve. “And no matter what’s asked of you, don’t balk or look churlish. Enjoy the magazines.”

She rose and left without a backward glance.

Amelia barely noticed the walk back to her room, too stunned to think straight. It wasn’t until the door locked behind her that she snapped out of it. She tore through the magazines, hoping to find a hidden note or message from Mrs. Bedaux about her situation but there was nothing. She sank down onto the floor in the middle of her room, surrounded by the ripped and creased pages. What the hell is happening?

She’d trusted Mrs. Bedaux, as much as she’d trusted Wallis, and when she’d needed her, she’d left Amelia to her Nazi friends. They’d both betrayed her and she still had no idea why.

A week after Mrs. Bedaux’s arrival, Amelia read the British newspaper article about the Duke of Windsor’s appointment as the Governor-General of The Bahamas and his plans to set sail for Nassau. Mrs. Bedaux had said the whole point of Amelia being here was to keep the Windsors in Europe. If they set sail for Nassau, the Germans and the Windsors wouldn’t need her anymore.

I have to get out of here.

She stood and paced the room before stopping at the window to try and gauge the distance between it and the ground. She could jump but she might break her leg and then they’d shoot her in the garden instead of dragging her off to wherever they tortured those men at night. She’d rather be shot than tortured to death.

The sudden entry of the guard made her nearly jump out of her skin.

“You have five minutes to gather your things,” he barked.

“Where am I going?”

“Five minutes.” He slammed the door closed behind him.

With shaking hands, Amelia packed up her satchel, trying not to let her mind run away with her. She’d just zipped it closed when the door opened again.

“Come with me.”

She followed the guard out of the room and down the stairs. Ahead of her, the hotel’s front door slowly closed behind the soldiers who’d just entered. If she made a run for it she might escape or gain a bullet in the back for her troubles. It might be preferable to whatever was waiting for her at the end of this walk.

The guard led her down the hall to the salon, the only other room she’d seen since arriving. Inside, a man in a gray suit spoke to Herr Knochen in firm but fluent German. After much talking and gesturing and some polite arguing, Herr Knochen waved his arm at Amelia.

“You may take her. It was a pleasure, Frau Montague.” Herr Knochen bowed to her and she smiled, her final performance with the German before the other gentleman approached. She didn’t know if her ordeal was over or about to begin until he spoke to her in perfect English.

“Mrs. Montague, I’m George Kennan, the American Ambassador to Berlin. I happened to be in Paris and Mr. Morton asked me to offer you some assistance. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Amelia clung to Robert as she sobbed in his arms, the weeks of worry and terror leaving her in a flood of tears. She was free, he’d found her. She was safe.

“We called every contact we had to see if there was some rumor about where you were but there was nothing,” Robert explained when her tears finally stopped. He settled her on the sofa in his Chancery office and handed her a cup of coffee. “It was as if you’d disappeared off the face of the earth. I even sent Daniel to the morgue to check for you. You don’t know how surprised we were when that Knochen fellow came in here asking to speak to Susan and mentioned your name.”

“I didn’t know if he would.”

“German bigwigs march in here once a day trying to flex some muscle but they don’t have any authority here, so far. Once we had a lead, we knew where to look. Knochen is head of the secret police and itching to get control in Paris but there’s some infighting between the Gestapo and the German Army so he’s biding his time. It’s why Ambassador Kennan was able to intervene on your behalf. If Knochen had full control, there’s no telling what might’ve happened to you.”

Amelia shivered despite the hot mug clutched in her hands. “Wallis left me there to rot.”

“I know.”

“How? Why? Why did she do that to me?” Fresh tears stung her eyes and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.