Victoria heard the voice of Derrick Albrecht in the hall and stood to face him from the fireplace as the lone servant in the house pushed open the drawing room doors to admit him. What was there to say until she was sure of his motives in bringing her here? What did he want? Why had he saved her and the others from death and by such risky, extreme, and extravagant means? Had he rescued her for himself? Was she a prisoner here? But then why had he set the others free—or had he? She had no idea what to make of him. He was an enigma, a constant variable, a never-ending surprise, as hard to grasp as a walking shadow cast by no form. His vicious slap across her face at Gestapo headquarters had convinced her that the game was over for all of them. She supposed he could forgive her much, perhaps even the shock and disappointment of learning that she was an enemy spy, but not the affront of using him to gain information. His aristocratic pride would not allow it.

He handed his gloves and hat to the waiting servant. “A bottle of 1943 Cuvee, s’il vous plaît, Alois,” he said. After the servant had bowed and closed the doors, he turned to her. “Good morning,” he said. “I see you’ve recovered well.”

He looked tired, but as he drew closer to the fireplace, Victoria recognized something else beyond fatigue beneath the surface of his eyes.

“You’re staring,” he said.

He was not a good man. No good man would wear that uniform, but still her heart compressed with an emotion that she did not understand. “The others—where are they?”

“I’ve no idea. Yesterday, they were driven to the house of a colleague in on the ruse. If all went according to plan, they should be on their way to friendly territory by now.”

“How do I know I can believe you?”

“You don’t, but I can offer no further assurance.” He paused to take in her dress. “You look lovely, by the way. Celeste chose well.”

“She obviously knows your taste.”

“No, she perceived yours. She has left the chateau with word that I tell you good-bye. She liked you.”

“I liked her, too.”

“I thought you two would get along. Now please move over. I wish to warm my hands. June is so unpredictable in Europe. Does your state of Virginia get these temperature drops in June?” He spread his hands, as finely tuned as a violinist’s or a surgeon’s, no stain of blood upon them.

Victoria ignored the question. “So please explain, Derrick. Why did you do it—save our lives? You went to great risks on behalf of myself and my friends at no small risk to your own.”