‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ But just as the words left Oliver’s mouth, Fiona appeared at the edge of the rose garden. Her expression was one of triumphant glee.
Clemmie’s stomach lurched as Fiona strode purposefully towards them.
‘Oh, God, what does she want now?’ Oliver muttered.
‘Well, well,’ Fiona began, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. ‘I hate to interrupt your little idyll, but I thought you should know there’s going to be an inquiry into just how original your recipe really is.’
Clemmie’s breath caught. ‘An inquiry? Are you serious?’
Fiona’s smile widened. ‘Oh, absolutely. Lady Rosalind’s remarks caught the attention of some rather influential ears. It’s only right to ensure that everything is above board, don’t you think?’
Oliver stood, his tone firm. ‘Fiona, this is ridiculous. Clemmie won fair and square. You need to accept that and move on. Bow out with dignity instead of clinging to petty vendettas.’
Fiona’s eyes flashed. ‘Petty vendettas? Oh, Oliver, you’ve always been such a white knight, haven’t you? But this isn’t about pettiness, it’s about fairness. And besides,’ she added with a sly grin, ‘it’s a day for secrets to be revealed.’
Clemmie’s heart sank. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she asked, looking between them both.
Oliver’s face darkened. ‘Fiona, don’t do this.’
But Fiona was clearly revelling in the moment. ‘Oh, come on, Oliver. You can’t honestly expect me to keep quiet aboutthat.’ She turned to Clemmie, her expression a mix of mock sympathy and delight. ‘Darling Clemmie, did you ever wonder about that scathing review of your little café? The one you mentioned inyour so-called winning speech, that left you doubting yourself for years?’
Clemmie froze, her blood running cold. ‘What are you talking about?’
Fiona’s grin turned feral. ‘It was Oliver. He wrote it. Every cutting word.’
The world seemed to stand still. Clemmie stared at Oliver, her voice trembling. ‘Is that true?’
‘Clemmie, I can explain,’ Oliver began, stepping towards her.
But she held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. The betrayal hit her like a tidal wave, and she felt her chest tighten with hurt and fury. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her steps brisk and determined. She didn’t look back, but the sound of Oliver’s and Fiona’s raised voices followed her like an echo.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Clemmie slammed the wardrobe door shut. She was furious. It didn’t take her long to pack her suitcase. Royalwood Cottage suddenly felt stifling and alien. She wanted to be gone. Now.
Her phone buzzed. Another message from her granny, no doubt, asking how the garden party was going. She ignored it, zipping up her case, whilst the tears she had been holding back began to blur her vision. She swiped at them angrily.
She couldn’t stop replaying the day’s events in her mind. It was all too much. She ripped off the dress Oliver had bought her, flinging it onto the bed. One by one, she laid out the ensemble: the hat, the matching bag, the now-worn shoes. ‘I don’t want any of it,’ she muttered to no one in particular, her voice cracking. ‘I just want to go home.’
She grabbed her phone, her trembling fingers finding Amelia’s number. The phone barely rang before Amelia picked up.
‘Clemmie? How’s it going? Are you still at the palace?’
That simple question undid her. The tears came freely now, and she sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. ‘Amelia, it’s all a mess. I can’t… I can’t even think straight.’
‘What do you mean? What’s happened? Start from the beginning.’ Amelia’s voice was calm but concerned.
‘There’s going to be an investigation,’ Clemmie said, her words tumbling out. ‘The recipe… the one from Great-great-granny… they’re saying it was stolen. Apparently, the recipe has been used in the palace for decades. God, it’s just humiliating and Oliver… I never want to see him again. Ever.’
‘Wait, hold on,’ Amelia said. ‘What do you mean stolen? Are they saying Beatrice copied it? That’s ludicrous!’
‘That’s exactly what they’re saying,’ Clemmie replied. ‘But in my eyes, it’s impossible. The recipe has been baked in The Café on the Coast for decades. I have no idea how this could have happened, but I’ll have to talk with Granny when I get home. If anyone can make sense of this, it’s her.’
Amelia’s tone softened. ‘You’ll figure it out and as for Oliver… what exactly happened? Did he say something?’
Clemmie swallowed hard, fresh anger rising to the surface. ‘It’s what he did. He wrote that bloody review. Remember, the one I mentioned in my winning speech? The one that crucified me in my first week of becoming a partner in the café? He didn’t even tell me. It was Fiona who had the great pleasure of revealing the truth. How could he do that?’
Amelia was silent for a moment. ‘That… doesn’t sound like the Oliver that you know. Are you sure there’s no misunderstanding?’
