by V. B. Tenery
“I know,” he said, closed her door, and watched as she drove away, shocked to realize he did know.
He pushed out a deep breath and returned to 3C and moved his things into Grace’s extra bedroom. Moving had become almost a daily activity over the past week.
While he transferred his belongings, he overheard Grace on the telephone with his mother, planning the reception.
She rang off and turned to him. “Well, it’s all set. Three days from now at her apartment. Your mother is a miracle worker. I have no idea how she will pull this together so quickly. The festivities begin at 11:00 a.m. Saturday but she asked that we be there thirty minutes early. Can you manage that?”
“Yes, how about you?”
“I’ll be ready.” She sat on the sofa and tucked her legs up beside her, the kitten in her lap, looking relaxed in navy slacks and a red and white striped sweater. “I hope you don’t mind if I turn on the radio. C. S. Lewis is broadcasting on the BBC. I’ve listened to a few of his broadcasts on faith. He’s very good.”
She sat the cat on a pillow, switched on the radio, and headed into the kitchen. “While I wait for the set to warm up, I think I’ll make some hot cocoa. Would you care for a cup? I only have evaporated milk but it’s actually very good.”
“Yes, to the cocoa and, no, I don’t mind the radio. I haven’t listened in a long time. My war news comes directly from the source and I never have time for regular broadcasts.”
She returned shortly with two steaming mugs and handed one to him. She curled up on the sofa and picked up a knitting basket.
“What are you making?” he asked.
She gave him an impish grin. “I’m no longer sure. It started as pillow covers, then grew into a bed cover. Now I think I’m knitting a house blanket.”
He laughed, almost spewing the hot cocoa. “That should come in handy with the foul weather we’re having, but you might want to stop there. Any bigger and you’ll have to get a team of weight-lifters to move it.”
She glanced up from her knitting and gave him a smile so warm it unsettled him. “Good point. I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
Their mission would be over when Becke was caught, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. At least the part that included Grace. If Jacky had divulged the secrets of Bletchley Park, his job would be infinitely more difficult. MI6 would have to get their hands on whatever code machine the Nazis used to replace Enigma, and men would die in the effort, possibly himself included. In that event, Grace could find herself a widow before a divorce was needed.
He shoved the worries to the back of his mind as the cultured voice of C. S. Lewis came through the set and Grace turned up the volume.
He watched her work the yarn with efficient fingers and thought what a domestic picture she made. He’d worried the flat would feel crowded with the two of them sharing the space, but instead it felt . . . comfortable. Yes, that was the word. She was quiet, didn’t chatter, and made intelligent comments. All in all, she was a good companion. It would be easy to get used to having her around.
And that scared him to death.
CHAPTER 12
Bristol Arms Apartments
London, England
Saturday dawned and Grey had spent a restless night trying to beat his pillow into submission. Thoughts of Becke, Grace, and what the marriage meant to the future kept his active mind running through all the possibilities, but in the end failed to offer any solutions.
The sky was clear and rare sunlight peeked from behind a cloud. Good news for the Luftwaffe, but bad news for his mother’s wedding reception.
The ordeal lay before him and he knew he would be forced to play the loving bridegroom to the hilt. A role he’d never played and in which he wasn’t comfortable. Somehow he’d have to muddle through.
He showered and dressed quickly, then went into the kitchen in search of caffeine to keep him awake. A fresh pot of tea sat on the counter beside a plate of scones.
He grabbed two of the raspberry and filled a cup with the brew, and stood at the counter while he ate.
The bedroom door closed and Grace appeared beside him in a beige wool dress, almost the same color as her hair. The soft fabric clung to her tiny waist, slim hips, and swirled around her legs. “I’m hungry. I think I have time for tea as well, right?”
He looked at his watch. “You have exactly thirty minutes before we have to leave.”
She lifted a scone from the plate. “Any advice for me before I meet your family and friends?”
He grinned. “Stay clear of Great-Aunt Helen. She’s almost deaf, has a voice like a foghorn, and says whatever comes into her mind. Her passions in life are family gossip and her garden.”
“Noted. Avoid Great-Aunt Helen. Any other land mines I need to watch out for?”
“No, the rest of the clan is fairly genteel. I’ll stay close in the event something arises you can’t handle. By the way, I spoke to Aubrey last night. He’ll be there. He was shocked to say the least about our sudden marriage.”
Lady Amherst’s Apartment
London, England
When Grey and Grace entered the flat, he almost didn’t recognize the place. Flowers were artfully placed around the large room, a buffet table with Irish linen and Waterford crystal sat in the center, and a refreshment bar had been placed in the corner.
His mother had worked a minor miracle for the affair. There were at least eight servants milling around and the table was spread with delicacies he hadn’t seen since before the war: bacon-wrapped shrimp, liver pate, and Cornish game hens to name a few. Where she’d managed to come by the ration coupons was a mystery.
He gaped at her. “Did you highjack a truck headed for Buckingham Palace?”
Her face glowed with pleasure. “I called in every favor anyone owed me, even to lending their domestic help. It did turn out well, didn’t it?”
He’d made the decision on the drive over to put aside his animosity for this afternoon. She had worked hard to make this special for him and Grace. “Yes, Mother. I can’t believe you were able to pull this affair off so splendidly in three days.”
She reached out and hugged Grace. “Come back to my bedroom. I have a wedding gift for you.”
His mother motioned for him to follow. A black velvet jewelry box lay in the center of the bed. His mother picked it up and flipped the lid open. On the silk fabric lay an emerald pendant surrounded by diamonds with matching earrings.
“This is the reason I asked you what color you planned to wear. When you said beige, I thought of these. They belonged to my grandmother.”
“They’re lovely, Vic, but are you sure you want to part with them? I never expected anything so exquisite.”
Grey read the concern on her face. She didn’t want to accept the family heirlooms since theirs wasn’t a real marriage.
“You’re the only daughter-in-law I have. I intend to spoil you.” His mother passed the necklace to him. “Why don’t you fasten this for your bride, Grey?”
After he’d closed the clasp, Grace clipped on the earrings and hugged his mother then gazed into the mirror. “I don’t know what to say, Vic, except thank you. The thought behind this,” she patted the necklace, “means so much to me.”
He looked over her shoulder into the mirror. Her lovely eyes glistened in the reflection. “They’re perfect. They suit you.”
The door chimes sounded and his mother smiled. “Looks like guests are arriving. Come, Grace. They’re all anxious to meet you.”
As they left the bedroom, his mother picked up an envelope from the dresser and handed it to him. “This came for you earlier.”
He recognized the royal stationery and opened the letter. He smiled as he read.
My dear Grey:
Your extraordinary wedding announcement came to my attention. George and I wish you and your bride the very best. Both my daughters are devastated, of course. They suffer from an enormous case of hero worship.
Elizabeth
&nb
sp; He passed the letter to Grace. “You might want to hold on to this.”
“Is this who I think it is?”
He nodded. “Yes, the Queen. I don’t think she approved of our hasty marriage, but she would have been horrified if those photographs had made their way into the tabloids.”
Edie Moorhead and Bunny greeted them with hugs as they entered the drawing room. Her aunt’s gaze landed on the pendant around Grace’s neck. “I see someone has been dipping into the Hamilton jewels. My gift will be here later this afternoon, I hope.”
Soon the room was filled with people, family and friends Grey hadn’t seen in years. The blasé guests seemingly ignored the distant sounds of bomb explosions, choosing to take advantage of this rare social event and sumptuous food.
He was just beginning to relax when and ample-figured woman with finger-waved white hair, a monocle, and a walking cane moved towards them. He leaned down and whispered in Grace’s ear. “Man the deck. Great-Aunt Helen approaching at nine-o’clock.”
She stopped a few feet from them, then gave Grace an acute appraisal. “Grey, couldn’t you find an English girl to marry?” Aunt Helen’s voice boomed and everyone stopped talking as she glared over at Gray then cast her eagle eyes back on Grace. “She’s a pretty little thing, but she’s not built for child-bearing. Hips are too narrow. Put a little meat on her bones and she might bear you six strapping boys. She must be a smart one to have gotten you to the altar.”
Heat rose under Grey collar. He introduced the two with a smug grin. “She’s an absolute genius.”
Grace hid a laugh behind slightly pink cheeks and a glowing smile. “I’m so glad to meet you, Aunt Helen.” Grace leaned over and lowered her voice. “Grey has told me you’re his favorite aunt and he waxes absolutely lyrical about your lovely garden.”
“Really?” His aunt beamed at him, almost dislodging her eyepiece. “He never told me, but he’s always been a quiet one. You must come have tea with me in the spring, when my roses are in bloom. By then you should be expecting my first great-great-nephew.” She patted Grey’s arm. “This family can use an infusion of hardy American stock into our blood-line. I never did like that Cynthia person you were engaged to. I told your mother she was a bad one.”
After she walked away, he smiled down at Grace. “Surviving your first encounter with Aunt Helen is no small feat. Nicely done.”
Aubrey moved up beside Grace and kissed her cheek. “I’m gone for three days, finally a free man, and you go and marry this bloke.”
“We didn’t have time to consult you,” Grey said. “How are you?”
Aubrey’s lips turned up on one side. “Much better. I concluded that Penelope wasn’t worthy of me.” His gaze moved across the room and stopped on Bunny, occupied in conversation with Edie. “I’m glad you found a place for Bunny. I worried about her after Grey told me you two were married.”
He turned his attention back to Grey. “I received a report from the Yard on Gunter Becke. He was actually born in England, graduated from Cambridge with a degree in engineering. His parents returned to Germany just before we declared war. He also made many visits to his homeland before the war. He speaks perfect English without an accent. That’s how he managed to pass himself off as an RAF pilot.”
“Any luck in finding where he is?” Grey asked.
Aubrey shook his head. “He appears to have gone to ground.”
The doorbell sounded again. Grey glanced across the room at his mother. Surely not more guests. His mother gave him a mysterious smile.
A distinguished man in his early fifties, dark hair liberally sprinkled with gray, stood in the entrance. His gaze scanned the room and fell on Grace. A smile lit his face and he hurried towards her.
Without an introduction, Grey knew who the man was, and he smiled.
Grace gasped and rushed into the man’s embrace. She buried her face against his shoulder and they stood there, oblivious to the other people around them. She lifted her head and gazed into his misty eyes. “Daddy! I can’t tell you how glad . . . how did you get here . . . is Mom with you?”
He chuckled. “Let me catch my breath, sweetheart. Edie sent us a wire about the reception. I’d missed your wedding and I didn’t intend to miss this. I pulled every string possible all the way up to President Roosevelt to get on a transport plane headed for Great Britain. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t allow your mother on a military aircraft. She was distraught, but sends her love.”
He held both her hands and stepped back. “I’ve missed my fishing buddy, but you don’t look much like a fisherman today. You’ve grown more beautiful since I last saw you. Your sister was green with envy when she learned you were now Lady Amherst. I heard her throwing things in her room,” he said with a chuckle, and fingered the pendant around her neck. “Is that real?
She ran her arm through his and walked him towards Grey. “It is indeed. Come let me introduce you to my . . . husband.”
Grey watched with trepidation as they closed the short distance to where he and Aubrey stood. This formidable American father unnerved him more than a company of Nazi storm-troopers. Grey stepped forward to meet his father-in-law. The expression on the man’s face did nothing to lessen the discomfort.
Grace moved to Grey’s side and slipped her arm through his. “Dad, this is my husband, Grey Hamilton, and our good friend Inspector Aubrey Milford. Gentlemen, this is the Honorable Judge, Michael Sullivan, my father.”
Grey offered his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t have the opportunity to ask to marry your daughter, sir. With the demands of our jobs we had a small window of opportunity.”
“I’m sorry, too. I’d always looked forward to giving her away. But I’m well aware that this war changes the way things are done.” He cast a wistful look at his daughter. “I’d hoped the next time I came to England I could convince you to come home, but looks like this is now your home.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
He flashed a charming smile. “Forgive me. This is a happy occasion. Don’t let my melancholia spoil the celebration.” He glanced at Grey. “Now, where can a thirsty man get a drink?”
“Follow me, Judge. We’ll take care of that thirst immediately.”
Grey stood by while the tuxedoed server gave the judge his drink. Highball in hand, he turned to Grey. “Is there someplace private we can talk? I’m on a tight schedule. My ride leaves for D.C. at ten tonight.”
“That soon?” Grey asked.
The judge nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
Grey led the way down a hallway off the kitchen. “There’s an office in here.”
When they were both seated on the sofa, the judge angled his body towards Grey.
“I’m not one for beating around the bush, son. I used my connections in Washington to investigate you. There are a number of impoverished English nobility looking to marry American heiresses. I had to assure myself that wasn’t the case with you. The glowing report I received assured me that wasn’t the case with you. That relieved my mind. Although, Grace has always been a good judge of character.”
“I understand, Judge. I would do no less for any daughter of mine.”
“I don’t know if you are aware as yet, but that girl you married is very special.” He sipped his bourbon thoughtfully. “Because of her extraordinary intelligence, her mother and I didn’t know how to handle a prodigy. Children her own age bored her because she was light years ahead of them. Since she had no friends, I did the only thing I knew to do. I took her with me in my free time. I taught her to swim, ride, fish, hunt, and to play golf.” He chuckled. “She became expert in all of them. I raised a little tom-boy, but she’s smoothed out the rough edges nicely as she’s grown up.”
Grey grinned. “I’ll have to agree with you on that, sir.”
A grim look passed across the judge’s face. “Her sister, Beth, is exactly the opposite. A father shouldn’t say bad things about his own child, but Beth is the reason Grace came to England. Grace was engaged to marry Har
rison Bennett. Beth decided she wanted him and arranged for Grace to catch them together in a compromising situation, if you get my meaning.”
Grey suspected something of the kind lay in Grace’s past. What surprised him was the experience hadn’t made her bitter, unlike his own reaction to Cynthia’s unfaithfulness.
“What I’m saying, Grey, if I’m allowed to call you by your first name, is take care of my little girl. She’s a rare jewel. You’ll never find another like her.”
“You don’t have to worry about Grace, sir. It’s my job to protect her. I’ll do all that’s within my power to keep her safe. You have my word on that.” He stood and offered his hand. “By the way, sir, if you get the President’s ear, you might tell him not to wait too long to get into this fight. Britain is holding on by her fingernails.”
“Believe me, Grey, Roosevelt would have been in the middle of this war long ago were it not for the cowardly isolationists. They believe America is safe as long as we stay out of the conflict. If England falls, they don’t realize Hitler won’t stop there. He’ll keep going until he conquers the world, one country at a time. Unless we stop him.”
Grey nodded his understanding. “We had a similar situation with Prime Minster Chamberlain. Appeasement never works when you’re dealing with tyrants.”
He held the door open for his father-in-law. “Since your time with us is short, let’s go find Grace. She’ll want to enjoy every possible moment with you.”
CHAPTER 13
Hillingdon Airfield
London, England
Grey drove Judge Sullivan to the airfield to meet the transport plane headed back to America. The Bentley’s hooded headlamps pierced the darkened night as he navigated the bomb-pitted road.
The Judge and Grace were both quiet as Gray made his way through the blacked-out countryside to a spot just off the runway where Michael Sullivan’s plane awaited. Fires from the docks lighted the London sky. “Will it be safe to fly, sir?” Grey asked.
