“I can handle myself,” Barin assured her. “Goodbye, and thanks for the most interesting cocktail party I’ve ever served.”

“If you ever need anything . . .”

“I’ll have Eugenie let you know.”

Barin climbed back into the car with Corporal Sawyer and they drove off as Amelia hurried to Eugenie.

“You’ll be in Miami within the hour,” Lady Williams-Taylor said as they sat in the back of her Cadillac on the private runway at Oakes Field waiting for the plane to taxi to the hangar. She handed Amelia a fresh towel of ice from the bar compartment in her car for her swollen mouth. In her ripped dress and borrowed coat and with a broken lip, Amelia looked like a mess but she was safe.

“What about you? If they know about me then they must know about you.”

“Eugenie and I leave for Canada tomorrow and we’ll stay there until things calm down. There’s too much excitement here and I don’t want to be bombed to bits by the next German air raid, at least that’s the story we’ll give to everyone, including the newspapers.”

“Did they get the U-boat?”

“They did, thanks to you.” The plane pulled to a stop and the mechanic slid wedges under the tires. The pilot didn’t cut the engine. They’d leave the moment she was on board, but the stairs lowered and a tall figure stepped out. “Now off you go. There’s someone waiting for you.”

Amelia threw open the car door and rushed across the tarmac to Robert. He sprinted to close the distance, scooping her up in his arms and twirling her around in excited relief. He set her feet on the ground, ready to kiss her, but her nasty lip stopped him.

“I’ll make them pay for what they did to you.”

“We both will.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Miami, Biltmore Hotel, March 1944

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Robert asked.

Amelia checked the tea in the teapot and adjusted the cups and saucers to make sure everything on the table was perfect. Working at the FBI in Washington, D.C., might not be as glamorous as planning dinners for European aristocrats, but even in the midst of war work she hadn’t forgotten how to lay a proper table, write a perfect thank-you note, or dress with distinction. She also needed the armor of her Chanel-inspired blue suit to help her face Wallis.

“I’m quite sure.”

“Good, because they’re here.”

The door opened and the suited FBI gentlemen showed Wallis and the Duke into the suite. After a couple of years of good behavior, the Colonial Office had finally granted the Windsors permission to travel to Miami for Wallis to have dental work. If Amelia didn’t do this today, she might not get another chance.

Wallis stepped over the threshold and glared at Amelia. “I have no desire to speak to that woman.” Wallis clutched her white leather purse that matched her white suit and tried to leave but the FBI agents stepped together in front of the door to block her way.

“How dare you,” the Duke thundered at being treated like a commoner.

“If Your Royal Highnesses would be so kind as to join me, we have some very important matters to discuss.” Amelia motioned for them to sit.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Wallis spat.

“They are issues of national importance concerning Your Royal Highnesses,” Robert said, and the Duke perked up at the prospect of being let in on something as important as state secrets. “You’ll want to hear what Mrs. Montague has to say.”

The Duke looked over the table and at Amelia standing behind it like the perfect hostess.

“I hate to let a good fruit tart go to waste.” The Duke escorted a stiff Wallis to the chair Robert held out for her.

She exchanged a wary look with the Duke as she sat down across from him.

“Are you enjoying Miami, Your Royal Highness?” Amelia sat and poured the tea, preparing the Duke’s exactly as he liked it before she handed it to him along with his fruit tart.

Wallis waved hers away, sitting sour-faced as if she’d noticed a bad smell. “It’s quite nice being in real society, even if the present company is lacking.”

“Have you heard from Mrs. Bedaux? I understand she’s under the protection of her Nazi friends at Château de Candé.” Amelia’s composure never changed and neither did Wallis’s except for the slight narrowing of her hard eyes.

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“Perhaps you’ve heard from Mr. Bedaux? He was in Africa overseeing the construction of oil lines for the Germans, until he was arrested by the U.S. Army and brought to D.C. That’s why Mrs. Bedaux is no longer free. After everything she did for them, that’s how they treat her.”

“I haven’t heard from Charles since we left Europe.”

“Nor will you. He killed himself with sleeping pills last week. The evidence against him was so damning, he decided to take matters into his own hands.”

Wallis’s hand went to her neck and the Duke stopped eating his tart.

“I understand Mr. Wenner-Gren is in Mexico City; of course, it’s the only place willing to take him since the U.S. government seized his assets, including his account on your behalf at the Bank of Baltimore.”

“How dare they. They have no right to touch that money, it’s mine!” Wallis screeched.

“You’re free to argue your case with the U.S. government. I’m sure they’d love to see any documents connecting you to the account and where the money came from. You have some very interesting financial backers, including Mr. Wenner-Gren, who’s been blacklisted by the U.S. government.”

Wallis’s square jaw clenched tighter in barely concealed anger. “The Bahamas is British territory. U.S. laws don’t apply there.”

“They didn’t until today.” Amelia motioned for Robert to come forward. “The Colonial Office asked us to present His Royal Highness with an order to seize Mr. Wenner-Gren’s Bahamian assets, including Shangri-La, the cannery, his beach resort, docks, and oil import business.”

Robert opened a leather folio and laid the seizure orders from the Colonial Office in front of the Duke. He uncapped a fountain pen and held it out to the Duke.

The Duke read the document, then looked to Wallis for what to do.

“Sign it,” she ordered.

The Duke took the fountain pen, letting it hover over the document a moment before he finally pressed the nib against the paper and signed his name.

“Thank you, Your Royal Highness.” Robert slipped the paper out from under the pen and tucked it back into the folio.

The Duke laid the pen on the table beside him, shoulders hunched in defeat.

Wallis remained ramrod straight in her chair. “You think you have the upper hand, but I know the ways of the world. You’ll be a nothing and nobody soon enough while I’ll be so much more. I taught you everything you know.”

“You did, and many other lessons, especially how to be grateful for what I have instead of always wanting more.”

“You’d have nothing if it wasn’t for me.”