Page 33 of The Princess and the Rogue

The little man puffed up like a rooster, and Anya threw out her lure. She’d dealt with temperamental artists like this before, both in Russia and in Paris. She knew just how to handle him. Men like Lagrasse needed to be constantly challenged or they lost their spark.

“However—”

Lagrasse sent her a steely look. “Madame?”

“I’ve also heard of a rival of yours, a man named Eustache Ude.”

From behind her, she heard Wolff let out a low groan of disbelief.

Lagrasse’s face reddened. “Ude? Bah! He used to be in the service of Napoleon’s mother, but he works at Crockford’s now. Crockford pays him two thousand pounds a year! And for what? The man’spièce de résistanceis nothing more than mackerel baked in clarified butter.”

Anya adopted a serious expression. “And I am quite certain you’re the better chef. But still, people talk. Wouldn’t you like the chance to prove it, once and for all?”

Lagrasse’s mustache twitched and his eyes took on a steely glint. She had him.

“What do you suggest?”

“Well, clearly you’re both exceptionally skilled when it comes to preparing French cuisine. But isn’t the ultimate test whether you can master food from a different country? To prepare it so well that even natives of that country pronounce it the best they’ve ever had?”

She paused to let the idea marinate. “Lord Mowbray would like the Tricorn to serve some Russian delicacies in honor of the tsar’s delegation. I’ve bet him you canproduce food so authentic that evenIwon’t be able to tell it was prepared by a Frenchman.”

Anya held her breath. The gauntlet had been thrown down. She prayed the chef would rise to the challenge.

He did not disappoint. He drew himself up to his maximum height of five foot two. “Madame, there is nothing you can ask of me, no recipe so complex that I, RenéLagrasse, cannot master.”

“That’s precisely what I told Lord Mowbray. I shall be your official food tester. I will judge each dish before we serve it to the club’s patrons.”

“Which foods do you suggest?”

“Let me think. The first that comes to mind, of course, is blini. They’re tiny little Russian pancakes. Similar to your crêpes, only made with a yeasted dough, which makes them lighter. You can serve them with any number of things, sweet or savory. I personally like them with smoked salmon, sour cream, and caviar. Or with honey.”

Lagrasse nodded. “Very well. But pancakes are not very complicated.”

“That is true. You could trymedovik. It’s a layered honey cake which takes a great deal of skill. There are hundreds of regional variations. You must make layer upon layer of honeyed pastry and alternate it with sweetened cream or custard, then cover the outside of the cake with pastry crumbs. It is incredibly labor intensive. The tsarina, Elizabeth Alexeievna, gobbles it up whenever it’s served.”

Lagrasse’s eyes widened. “You’ve dined at the emperor’s court?”

Anya bit her lip as she realized her slip. “Oh, well, I went there a few times, certainly. With my mistress, Princess Denisova. I would go down to the kitchens and sample the leftovers.”

The chef nodded, apparently satisfied by her explanation. “Very well. You may bring me recipes.”

“Thank you, Monsieur Lagrasse. I know you will rise to the occasion.”

Anya turned on her heel and swept back up the stairs, confident Wolff would follow.

“That,” he said, when they’d reached the safety of the hallway, “was masterful.”

The undisguised awe in his tone made her preen a little.

“I have medals from my military campaigns, Miss Brown. I have faced Bonaparte’s canons and cavalry. But evenIwould hesitate to suggest to a Frenchman that he bake a Russian cake.”

Anya sent him a triumphant grin. “You speak French?”

“Well enough to know that you’re wasted as a secretary. You should be a diplomat. I’ve never seen such soothing of ruffled feathers. When you mentioned Ude, I thought he was going to stab you with a bread knife, but you played him like a fiddle.”

“We have a saying in Russia: ‘you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.’”

Wolff smiled. “Or in this case, with honey cake. Where are you going to find the recipes? Can you write them down for him?”

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