“She’s practically been canonized.” Amelia lay on the cabana chaise, trying to relax in the sun but she couldn’t. She could still see the wounded and haunted men they’d pulled from the ocean and the many others they couldn’t save.

Eugenie tossed the newspaper on the sand beside her bag. “Your suspicions about the Southern Cross radioing the U-boats about the Malta’s position are probably right. With the Lend-Lease Act signed, convoys will soon be crossing the Atlantic with supplies and if Britain doesn’t get them, they won’t survive.”

“Neither will the sailors on those attacked ships. The Southern Cross can’t be at every sinking. Even if it is, it won’t be long before Mr. Wenner-Gren turns his back on what’s left of his humanity and leaves the survivors to drown.”

“Lady Williams-Taylor says they need to know how U-boats are operating this far south. They have to be refueling and taking on supplies somewhere. We have to find out where.”

They met each other’s glance, the answer so obvious they were ashamed they’d both missed it.

“The deepwater harbor,” they said in unison.

Eugenie nodded. “We need proof.”

“He’s throwing a party in Wallis’s honor at Shangri-La tomorrow night. I’ll see what I can find.” Then she’d see Wallis, Mr. Wenner-Gren, and their black hearts go to hell.

“Amelia, there you are,” Wallis said when Corporal Sawyer held open the car door at Government House and Amelia stepped out. “There’s someone here to see you.”

“Who?” She wasn’t expecting anyone.

Wallis waved her into the State Drawing Room and there, standing beneath Wallis’s portrait, was someone she’d never expected to see.

“Peter.”

“Hello, Melly.”

“What are you doing here?” He was the same but different, a few pounds heavier, his dark hair a touch thinner. They had the same brown eyes but her jaw was rounder like Mother’s and his square one resembled Father’s.

He glanced between her and Wallis, who for once readily relinquished attention. “I’ll leave you two alone. I’m sure you have a lot to discuss.”

Amelia remained rooted to the floor, not sure if she should hug him. There weren’t etiquette books for reunions, and after her last one with Theodore, she was cautious. She didn’t have to decide. Peter opened his arms and gave her a firm, heartfelt hug.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” She clung to him, and memories of loss combined with a relief she hadn’t experienced in years flooded through her. He still loved her. She didn’t know if he’d forgiven her but he loved her. She backed out of his embrace. “What are you doing here?”

He glanced uneasily at the portrait of Wallis. “Is there somewhere we can speak privately?”

“I’ll show you the garden.” She led him outside. They followed the main path beneath the palms and the poinciana trees with their vibrant red flowers and spreading branches where iguanas lounged or tugged at the bright petals. The Bahamian gardeners worked near the house, trimming the bougainvillea while chatting with each other in Bahamian Creole. Amelia understood only a word or two and left them to their conversation as she led Peter to the far end of the garden, where the Caribbean pines and yellow elder trees offered shade and privacy. “What brings you here?”

“I had business with the railroad in Miami and decided to take a plane over to see you. Wallis was kind enough to invite me here when I called to arrange it. I rather wanted to see it and you for myself. Theodore said you were looking well.”

“I know he didn’t say that.”

“Well, not in so many words. He said you were as chic as the high-class whore you worked for.”

“That sounds more like him.” A bright green anole lizard darted across the path in front of them as Amelia debated asking the next question. “What did Mother say?”

“That if you’re going to work for a whore, at least it’s one who’s finally given you some sense of style.”

“Practically a compliment.”

“Mother is Mother the way Wallis is Wallis and she isn’t going to change any more than Wallis will. We simply have to accept them as they are and work with them as best we can. But you’ve changed. You’re nothing like you used to be.”

“Good.” She never wanted to be that meek and gullible mouse again.

He glanced around to make sure no one was near them. “Your friend Mr. Morton called on me in Baltimore and told me what you’ve been up to these last few years.”

Amelia touched the bonne chance charm, shocked as much by this as seeing Peter in the flesh.

“He said you worked at the Embassy in London during the Blitz. I could hardly believe it. You in the middle of all that, it’s really something.”

“I just did what everyone else did. The sound of planes still makes me want to dive for cover.”

He sat beside her on an iron bench beneath a rubber tree. “I’m serious. It took a lot of guts to do that, and what you’re doing here.”

She cocked her head at him. “My work for Wallis?”

“No.” He tugged his tie and looked around again, as if expecting a gardener to jump out from behind a bush. Then he leaned forward and whispered, “The other stuff.”

It wasn’t possible. “How do you know?”

“Mr. Morton told me something of it, at least what he could. He said I’d be shot if I told anyone else. I don’t think he was kidding. I don’t know much about it but I know enough.” He took her hand and held it tight. “You’ve done well for yourself with school and your job and now this. It’s what I came here to tell you. I’m proud of you.”

She covered his hand with her other one. “You don’t know what that means to me.”

“I do. I’m sorry I wasn’t always there for you after Father died, and all the things with Jackson. If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in college and my life, maybe I could’ve stopped you from getting in trouble, but I was and I regret it. I want to make it right.”

“What about Mother?” She’d never expected this. Perhaps there was another miracle waiting for her.

“When the war is over we can tell her about you and she might soften.”

She shot him a skeptical look.

“Or not, but it’s worth a try. I can’t wait to hear your stories when you’re free to tell them.”

Peter stayed for lunch with Amelia and Wallis, who was in top form as hostess, reminiscing about summers at Cousin Lelia’s while laying on a simple but substantial offering of rock lobster and pigeon peas and rice. The Duke dropped in to eat his usual fruit tart before leaving to meet with the Governor’s Executive Council.

At the end of the day, Wallis and Amelia stood at the front door to wave Peter off before Corporal Sawyer drove him to the airport. It was hard to see him go but she was glad he’d come.

“I think that went very well,” Wallis said with the same pride as when one of her dinner parties was a success.

“Thank you for arranging it. It was good to see him.” It gave her hope for a different future, Thanksgivings with family and new and better memories of home.

“I had to make him welcome, on your behalf. That bitch mother of yours will never come around, but I want you to have someone on your side the way I’ve had you and Aunt Bessie on mine.”

Amelia didn’t know what to say. Peter was right: Wallis was Wallis, and she could be caring and a witch at the same time. She’d done something so sweet for Amelia, who was actively working against her.