Page 27 of Fake Fiancée, Real Baby
“You probably know I’m a chef myself,” Claire said, as Monsieur Faronne led her to his workbench.
“You’re to open your own restaurant in Flandenne, mademoiselle? I wish you luck.”
Claire wondered what he really thought. She was keen to prove herself. She hadn’t so much as boiled an egg in the last few days and was feeling sorely deprived of her creativity. Idling her time away was fine on a beach holiday, but Claire had no intention of making it permanent. She didn’t want the chef to think she was simply playing at things.
“Thank you. But it’s still a while away yet. I could… help you here,” Claire ventured.
The chef looked at her in surprise, but he didn’t immediately dismiss the idea.
“What sort of things do you like to cook, mademoiselle?” he asked.
Claire thought for a moment. Flandenne was known for its rich food — its national dish was a pancake filled with a mixture of potato, cheese and cured meat — while Claire’s own tastes were more Mediterranean. But a sudden idea now occurred to her, causing her to smile.
“Well, recently I cooked the prince’s favorite childhood dish,” she said, wondering if the chef knew what it was.
But Monsieur Faronne looked at her blankly.
“What is it?”
“A steamed sponge pudding,” Claire replied.
It wasn’t long before she’d donned a chef’s jacket and had set to work, showing the head chef how to prepare the dessert that had so captured the prince’s delight. With the resources of the palace kitchen at her disposal, Claire made the dessert with golden syrup this time, excited at the prospect of the king and queen trying it at dinner that evening. There was to be a reception thatafternoon, and some of the guests were staying for dinner — an unofficial celebration of the prince’s engagement. The menus had already been decided, but the steamed sponge pudding would be included, too — a homage to the first meeting between Claire and the prince.
“You’re a considerable talent, mademoiselle,” the head chef said, when he tasted the dessert a short while later.
They’d cooked it in the microwave, just as Claire had done on the yacht. It tasted delicious, and even more so with the golden syrup.
“I hope Their Majesties like it,” Claire replied, feeling nervous at the thought of the king and queen eating something she’d prepared for them.
Later that afternoon, the prince came to Claire’s apartment to collect her for the reception. She’d changed into a red dress and put on a tiara loaned her by the queen.
“You look beautiful,” the prince said.
Claire blushed. She’d never worn something so elegant before. It made her feel like Marilyn Monroe.
“You’re just saying that,” she replied, but he shook his head.
“But I’m not. You really do. I… I’m sorry if this is all a little overwhelming for you.”
Claire smiled at him. “I’m managing. And I’ve got you to help me, haven’t I?” she replied.
“It’s just that earlier, I thought I’d upset you. When you went off like that, I…” he began, but Claire interrupted him.
“No… it wasn’t that. I just needed some time alone, that’s all. I’m used to doing as I want, when I want. Everything here happens according to someone else’s rules. I’m still finding my feet. Actually, I’ve got a surprise for you this evening,” she said, smiling at him.
He’d brought her flowers — red roses — and the perfume of the blooms filled the air. It was a sweet gesture — a peace offering for the presumed offense. But Claire hadn’t been offended. She’d just wanted time on her own, and the afternoon she’d spent in the kitchen had been just what she’d needed.
“Oh, yes? Are you going to tell me what it is?” he asked.
Claire laughed. “It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I did, would it?”
Having finished getting ready, the time had come for them to go down to the reception. It was being held in the long gallery — a chance for the great and the good of Flandenne to get a glimpse of the prince’s betrothed. Claire was nervous, but determined to make a good impression.
As they entered the room at the equerry’s announcement, heads turned. All eyes were on Claire. She’d never been the center of attention before. It felt strange, even as she smiled and nodded as the two of them passed by the groups of guests.
“You’re doing very well,” the prince whispered, as Claire nodded and smiled, acknowledging those they passed.
“What happens now?” she asked, but that question was answered as an elderly man in evening dress, wearing various decorations, stepped forward, accompanied by a woman in a silver-colored dress and matching tiara.
