Oliver grinned. ‘I’ll be sure to keep an eye on them.’
The Queen’s gaze shifted to Clemmie, her expression softening further. Clemmie curtsied.
‘Clemmie, we meet again.’ The Queen leaned forward. ‘No pink heart pyjamas today?’ she said with a chuckle.
Immediately put at ease, Clemmie relaxed. ‘Not today, Your Majesty.’
‘I’ve heard all about your Café on the Coast on Puffin Island.’ The Queen’s smile grew as she extended her hand to Clemmie, who quickly but nervously shook it. ‘Congratulations, Clemmie, on winning The Royal Baking Competition,’ the Queen said. ‘Your torte was quite the triumph. My royal bakers are preparing your recipe as we speak. Soon, everyone at the garden party will have the chance to taste it.’
‘Thank you, ma’am. I’m truly honoured.’
‘I believe a cookbook is in preparation as well?’ the Queen continued.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Clemmie replied, her voice wobbling slightly from nerves.
‘Well, I shall look forward to it,’ the Queen said. ‘I would like a signed copy, personally.’
Clemmie’s heart raced. ‘Of course, ma’am. I’d be delighted. Do I… do I just send it to the palace?’
The Queen’s smile turned amused as she nodded. ‘I’m sure it will reach me,’ she said, her tone gentle. ‘Congratulations again. I hope you enjoy the rest of the day.’
With that, she moved on, the interaction leaving Clemmie both breathless and starstruck.
Clemmie turned to Oliver, her cheeks glowing. ‘Did I make a complete idiot of myself?’ she asked, half-dreading his answer.
Oliver laughed, his eyes full of affection. ‘Not at all. You were wonderful and she liked you, I could tell.’
Clemmie let out a breath of relief, then followed Oliver’s gaze towards the drinks tent. Sure enough, Lady Rosalind and Oliver’s grandmother stood huddled together, laughing and gesturing animatedly. They looked as though they were sharing some grand secret, and Clemmie smiled at the sight.
‘She’s right about them, isn’t she?’ Clemmie said, nudging Oliver playfully.
He nodded, his expression fond. ‘Oh, absolutely. If I had to guess, I’d say they’re undoubtedly up to no good.’
‘How does your grandmother know the Queen?’
‘She was her seamstress for many years,’ Oliver said casually, as though it were the most normal thing in the world.
Clemmie blinked, stunned. ‘And you only thought to tell me that now?’
Oliver grinned. ‘It’s not something you drop into everyday conversation.’
Clemmie shook her head, laughing. ‘You live in another world.’
Before Oliver could respond, Lady Rosalind’s voice cut through the hum of the crowd as she approached them with a smile and a glass of prosecco in each hand.
‘Thanks very much,’ said Clemmie, taking one of the glasses. ‘This is just an amazing day.’ She took a sip and glanced over at the royals before her gaze shifted and she froze.
Walking towards them, amidst the sea of elegance and poise, was someone Clemmie had never expected to see here. Fiona Fairweather.
Clemmie’s heart skipped a beat. Fiona was dressed to impress, her outfit striking but somehow too bold for the refined setting. Her hat was an elaborate concoction of bright feathers, and her dress, though undeniably expensive, seemed to scream for attention rather than match the understated elegance of the event.
‘What on earth is she doing here?’ Clemmie murmured, her voice laced with disbelief. ‘How did she get an invite? She didn’t even win the competition!’
Fiona was now just a few steps away, her eyes scanning the crowd before landing squarely on Clemmie and Oliver. A sly smile spread across her face as she approached, her confidence unmistakable. Clemmie felt a knot of unease form in her stomach. The day had been perfect, almost too perfect, and now, with Fiona’s sudden appearance, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to disrupt the magic of it all.
‘Clemmie, let me introduce you to someone,’ said Lady Rosalind, who had suddenly appeared at Fiona’s side. ‘My granddaughter Fiona.’
Clemmie’s mouth fell open before she hastily shut it. She would have to do everything in her power to stay composed.
