Previously: Mercenary Leon fails on a mission because of David, better known as Edward the Prince of Wales. Socialite Wallis Spencer, also a spy, has an affair with German Joachim Von Ribbentrop and marries Ernest. David becomes king. Wallis divorces, David abdicates and they marry. They fail to kill Hitler. Leon has become an expert assassin.
The Windsors spent the winter holidays in Paris cultivating a group of friends who held positions where they would be privy to sensitive government information. No one was better at pulling bits of gossip out of people than Wallis. David always leaned back in a comfy leather tufted chair puffing on a cigarette while smiling like he would rather be someplace else.
Winter slowly melted into spring which made house hunting much more entertaining. Wallis found spring in Paris enchanting, summer sweltering, autumn just shy of enchanting and winter pure hell. David usually accompanied her when inspecting houses to rent. He wanted every house to look like Fort Belvedere, which Wallis knew would be impossible to find in France. Mostly he wanted a garden to till. Gardening always relaxed him. And Wallis found herself enjoying watching him flex his muscles as he pulled weeds, hoed the soil and sawed away dead limbs.
The realty agency contacted the Windsors in late May with a place in Versailles that sounded promising. Chateau de la Maye belonged to the widow of French politician Paul Dupuy. They had met Dupuy and his wife at a New Year’s Eve celebration. Their long conversation about the coming war with Germany on the balcony of the Hotel Meurice must have exposed him to the pneumonia that killed him. David and Wallis were invited to the funeral but declined because during their conversations they discovered he was a Nazi sympathizer. They didn’t want to waste fake tears for him.
The house on the other hand, was intriguing. It featured a large garden, swimming pool, tennis courts and a nine-hole golf course, all of David’s favorite things. On the afternoon they were to tour the house, David received a phone call from the British Embassy requesting his immediate presence.
“Odd,” he told Wallis as he put on his overcoat, “I could swear the person on the phone had a slight German accent.”
“Darling, most well-bred Englishmen do.” And then she did something she rarely did—she kissed him on the lips.
She didn’t dwell on it during her limousine ride to Chateau de la Maye where the agent awaited her. Wallis knocked on the door. When it opened she stepped back. It was Joachim von Ribbentrop.
“What the hell are you doing here? Won’t Herr Hitler miss you?”
Ribbentrop flashed a smile which deepened the dimple in his chin. “He sent me personally to apologize to you for his lapse of judgment in the choo choo room when you and the duke visited.”
“Unnecessary.” Wallis brushed passed Ribbentrop.
“Herr Fuhrer hasn’t even been in the choo choo room since you left.”
“I’m here to see the house. How many bedrooms does it have?”
“Who cares?” Ribbentrop replied in breathless anticipation. “I can’t remember the last time I gave you a carnation.”
“Neither can I. By the way, when you called David saying he was needed at the embassy, you let your German accent slip in. He noticed.”
“I was excited about our rendezvous.”
“There is no rendezvous. I’m looking to rent the house.”
“I think of no one but you.”
She happened to be wearing one of her suits with a fur collar. Wallis turned her head so her eyes fluttered through the fur.
“Do you love me and adore me?”
“More than life itself.”
She smiled. “I may hold you to that someday.” Wallis looked around the room. “Lovely foyer. When will the authentic realty representative be here?”
“One hour from now.”
“In that case, we might as well go upstairs to inspect the bedrooms. What do you think?”
Ribbentrop left forty-five minutes later, which gave Wallis time to put herself back together before the real estate agent arrived.
The chateau came as furnished, which irritated Wallis. She didn’t like Madame Dupuy’s taste and was peeved she could not decorate it to her own style. Another negative was that it was in Versailles, some distance from the heart of Paris, where all the best gossip existed. She signed only a six-month lease.
Two weeks later, Wallis and David took the Blue Train to an estate near Antibes on the Mediterranean coast. It was a twelve-acre estate with a large landscaped park. Driving through the gate, visitors could not see the house, gardens and sea view until after turning a corner. The name of the villa was La Croe, and they loved the estate. It was a three-story building just waiting for Wallis to redecorate it into their own royal palace. They signed a ten-year lease, and to celebrate their good fortune, they dined at on the terrace of an Antibes cliffside restaurant. The maître‘d lead them to a table where they could enjoy the full view. On the table was a vase holding a single carnation.
They had not quite taken their first sip of champagne when Ribbentrop arrived, wearing his vanilla ice cream colored suit.
“You don’t mind if I join you?” He slid into a chair at their table before they could voice any objections. “What a pleasant surprise.”
David stared at the white carnation. “Well, at least a surprise.”
“Herr Fuhrer read you were looking for a home on the Riviera, and personally sent me on a mission to find you and apologize for the awkwardness of his farewells upon your departure.”
“Tell him to think nothing of it.” David leaned back and puffed on his cigarette.
Ribbentrop wrinkled his brow. “He also wanted to convey his apologies if you were in any way offended by the way he had—shall we say—decorated the choo choo room.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t quite remember the details of what you quaintly call the choo choo room.” David puffed on his cigarette and blew smoke through his nose.
“Herr Hitler has a whimsical sense of humor and he placed figures of you and the duchess on the balcony of Buckingham Palace dressed in the regalia of king and queen. He hoped you did not take away any untoward implications.”
David took the white carnation from the vase and sniffed it. “No scent.” He nonchalantly handed it to Wallis. “What is it you always say about white carnations, my dear?”
“Tacky. Any man worthy of romantic consideration would send a white rose.” She tossed the carnation over the balcony.