When Stars Light the Sky (The Women of Midtown #2)

Chapter 13

13

Benedict made an appointment with the Norwegian ambassador for the morning after Valentine’s Day. Their embassy was located in one of the less prestigious diplomatic neighborhoods, but the ambassador’s office was impressively furnished with a mix of European grandeur and a few decorations reflecting Norway’s naval heritage. Nautical maps and paintings of ships from the age of sail covered the wall. Brass and copper accents were everywhere, and a standing telescope was angled to point out the window.

Ambassador Salvesen stood as Benedict entered. They’d often met at social gatherings and had a cordial relationship, although that was about to change.

“Mr. Kincaid,” Ambassador Salvesen greeted. “Fine weather we are having for the middle of February, aren’t we?”

Benedict said nothing as he approached. He merely set the cluster of spliced wires in the center of the ambassador’s desk.

The pleasant expression on Salvesen’s face evaporated.

“Would you care to explain this?” Benedict said, still standing.

The ambassador chose his words carefully. “We were given to understand the Americans wanted to stifle our ongoing trade partnerships with Germany. It is in our interest to keep abreast of such discussions.”

True enough. Norway wanted nothing to do with this war, and loss of their fishing exports to Germany would cripple them. Nevertheless, Benedict’s job was to protect American interests, not sympathize with the Norwegians.

He kept his voice carefully controlled. “You are a new nation, only free from Danish rule for ten years. This is not how you make friends. I want the transcript of every telephone call you intercepted.”

The Norwegian ambassador lifted his chin a notch. “The line only became functional two days ago. We heard your cook telephone an order for sugar beets, and your call with Ambassador Gerard concerning submarine warfare.”

It sounded accurate. Thanks to Inga’s quick confession, the wiretap had yet to do any real damage, but he still had a right to ask for amends. “I am willing to keep quiet about this gross violation of our privacy on the condition you transfer Magnus Haugen out of Germany.”

“Done,” Ambassador Salvesen quickly agreed.

Benedict watched over Inga from afar.

In the week since she’d been knocked off-balance by the incident with Magnus, the breezy good cheer she brought to Alton House and everyone else at the embassy had vanished. She functioned with silent professionalism. Although most of the others at Alton House assumed it was due to a romantic breakup, Benedict knew she was withering beneath a tidal wave of shame. He wanted that to end. He needed her heart and head and intelligence back in the game. As annoying as she could be, he wanted the old Inga back.

After a fine roast beef dinner at Alton House, he asked her to accompany him on a walk, even though it was freezing. She dully nodded and grabbed her coat before following him outside. She probably expected a reprimand for what happened, but that would be like kicking a wounded puppy.

Frigid air pinched his cheeks as he stepped outside. The cold prompted a brisk pace as they set off beneath the avenue of barren trees, their scraggly limbs creating an arcade as he headed to the fountain at the end of the street.

“I wanted to let you know that Magnus has been sent back to Norway,” he said, trying to sound as gentle as possible. “You need not fear encountering him again.”

Her breath left her in a rush, a little white puff that vanished in the wind. Her shoulders sagged, but she looked relieved as she plopped down onto the rim of the empty fountain.

“I feel so stupid,” she said. “I think I should resign.”

“Don’t.”

Why did Inga continually refer to herself as stupid? It bothered him, and the only thing that could make this situation even worse was if she quit. He took the seat beside her on the rim of the fountain. “Inga, I need you to quit berating yourself. Mistakes happen. When they do, you need to get back on your feet, dust yourself off, and stay the course. All right?”

She still wouldn’t look at him, and he touched her chin to lift it up a notch. “It’s okay, Inga,” he said gently. “It’s over. There’s been no damage, and we won’t ever speak of this again.”

She nodded, her gaze darting around as she struggled to find words. “I expected you to gloat a little more.”

He knew what it felt like to have his feelings stomped. “Sorry,” he said with a hint of a smile. “I’m fresh out of gloats today.”

For the first time in days, he caught a hint of a smile from her. She averted her eyes and bit her lip. Then she took a fortifying breath. “I haven’t always treated you very kindly,” Inga said. “I know we won’t ever be best friends, but could we have some sort of truce?”

“A professional détente?”

She laughed a little. “That sounds much more diplomatic. Yes, a professional détente.”

The momentary lilt of her laughter sent a wave of longing through him. He missed the sound of Inga being happy.

“Good,” he said. A professional détente would be wise, even though he liked Inga far too much as it was. Détente aside, he rather enjoyed sparring with her and secretly hoped it wouldn’t end.