The Librarian Spy(77)
Ava didn’t move her hand from beneath his, instead reveling in the connection of their touch as well as their minds.
A fountain came into view before an exquisite building aligned with columns and a grand, arched entrance. The windows were peaked at the top like the main door, all with such delicate carvings, it appeared to be made of fine lace, a combination of Indian influence with Moorish accents.
“It’s beautiful,” Ava breathed.
“You’ll love the inside even more.” James led her up the short flight of stairs and through the open door where the subtle notes of a piano trickled out into the night air. They found themselves in an octagonal room with hallways leading in four different directions. To the right and left were most impressive, with corridors of arabesque-engraved arches cascading down its length and what appeared to be pink marble columns running along either side.
James pointed upward. Ava dropped her head back as she gazed to the building’s cupola, which was also carved with arabesque and backlit with a glow of red.
“James.” A man’s voice interrupted Ava’s awed exploration as she turned her focus to the gentleman striding toward them.
“Walter.” James shook the man’s hand. “So good to see you again, old chap.” He indicated Ava. “Mr. Walter Kingsbury, allow me to introduce you to Miss Ava Harper.”
Walter took her hand and kissed it. “She’s even more charming than you said, James.”
Ava slid a look at James, who pointedly glanced up at the elaborate ceiling, obviously avoiding her judgment.
“Come, Miss Harper.” Walter offered her his arm, stealing her away from James. “My lovely wife will be most eager to chat books with you.”
“You have a beautiful home,” Ava said, wishing she could stand for an hour in that one spot to fully take in the full opulence of the palace.
“Monserrate isn’t mine.” Walter chuckled. “I’m minding the property for a friend.”
He led her and James into the dining room where a long table was prepared with centerpieces of exotic orchids and set with fine china rimmed in gold. Servers stood by at the ready, hands tucked behind their backs. The savory scents in the air promised a meal as decadent as the venue.
She and James were seated near the end of the table, her beside Walter’s wife and him beside a stout man with a German accent. Within minutes of sitting, they were served a delicious soup with bits of sausage and vegetables, then came roasted venison drenched in a thick brown gravy, the meat so tender, it fell apart under her fork. This was followed by a delicate cream meringue that was just sweet enough to be satisfying.
Walter was correct in that Ava did enjoy conversing with his wife, who was very well-read and told about her life at the palace. The building was far too much for their family of four, so they only used a few rooms, and she shared how Walter created a place for their sons to swim by damming the large body of water outside with sand brought in to make it shallow and safe.
It was such an enchanting way of life that Ava almost missed it when James’s voice shifted from a conversational tone to something low and nearly imperceptible. She used that very moment to take a sip of her wine and strain her ears to what he said. The word wolfram was mentioned, along with contract and this week.
It took everything in her not to stiffen. Most especially wolfram—or tungsten as it was called among the Allies. One couldn’t be in Portugal without being keenly aware of its power over the Allies and the Axis.
The metal was necessary for creating bullet casings and other arms integral to the war effort. Portugal was its chief manufacturer, an asset that allowed them to maintain their neutrality.
Whatever James was saying sounded more like espionage and less like proper dinner conversation. Worse still, when the man lifted his own glass to drink, a gold swastika cufflink peeked out from beneath his black jacket sleeve.
The rich food soured in Ava’s stomach.
What sort of gathering had James taken her to?
Whatever it was, it sounded as though he had just shared pertinent Allied secrets with a Nazi.
She set her wine down and turned to Mrs. Kingsbury once more, no longer hearing what the woman was saying.
“Do excuse me,” James said abruptly in Ava’s ear.
Before she could protest, he was already out of his chair, his cloth napkin abandoned on the cushioned seat as he headed toward the door and pushed into the corridor. The servants swept in once more, their backs ramrod straight with decorum as they cleared away the dessert plates. That was when Ava caught sight of a familiar face among them: handsome as a Greek statue with short cropped blond hair.
Her head spun.
Had Lukas been with the other servants all night? Did James know? Was that why he brought her?
“Are you well, Miss Harper?” Mrs. Kingsbury asked.
“Forgive me, I think I need to use the powder room.” Ava pushed up to stand on weak legs.
“Of course. You’ll find it down the hall.”
Ava nodded her thanks and exited from the room, pausing outside the door to gather her errant wits. Or try to. They seemed to be scattered in every direction.
Had Lukas known she would be there? Was James in league with the Nazis?
Her thoughts whirled.
If James was feeding the Germans Allied secrets, she was obligated to share that information with the embassy. Soldiers’ lives depended on it. Like Daniel’s.