He glanced at her, and she offered him a bright smile, which she hoped indicated the correct answer. After a brief pause, he nodded slowly.
“Then bring some next time, my good baker, and we shall see if they compare.”
Malcolm nodded again.
Bonaparte called out to one of the kitchen staff, “Four madeleines.” Then he said to Serena, “Two for each of us.”
Malcolm gave her another surprised look. But the emperor hadn’t dismissed him, nor could he say out loud he had to leave.
“I won’t bother giving you one,” the emperor quipped, addressing Malcolm. “No more than I would insult the mademoiselle by presenting her with a gift of someone else’s wine. You must be very busy with all the celebrations in the city,” he added. “Don’t let my vintner and I keep you.”
And with that, Malcolm was at last allowed to go. She could see he wanted her to accompany him, or maybe it was merely her own desire to do so, but she had to stay until dismissed.
Malcolm bowed again to Bonaparte, nodded in her direction, and then departed through the same door by which she had just entered.
In another minute, Serena found herself tasting a golden cake while on the move again, this time toward the front entrance of the palace.
“I don’t usually go in and out this way,” she confessed.
“I try not to use any other door,” the emperor said, and she knew it was a remark filled with political meaning. The ruler shouldn’t have to sneak in or out for that matter, reminding her of King Louis XVIII, slipping away from the palace and out of the city under the cover of darkness.
Stepping into the sunshine, they were immediately flanked by Imperial Guards. For the briefest instant, she looked at the people gathered outside, each hoping to catch a glimpse of Bonaparte or even speak with him. Some glanced at her, perhaps wondering if she were anyone important.
She was a nobody, eating cake with an emperor!
And it seemed, he was finished with her. “Come again, mademoiselle. Any time you have news for me.”
She curtsied. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.”
He started past her, heading to his massive fountain project that was currently housed at the Bastille while the elephant was being built.
Suddenly, he stopped and turned, giving her a shrewd glance that made her heart speed up.Did he suspect her of something?
“How did you like the madeleine?” he asked.
“It was the best I ever had,” she said, feeling a little sorry for the powerful man who had so many forces against him.
“I think so, too,” he agreed, “but maybe you’ll be here when the baker brings his from Boulangerie Marineau, and we shall compare.”
With a tip of his familiar bicorn hat, Bonaparte walked away, through the throng of admirers.
Serena went slowly after him toward the Arc de Triomphe, passing by the guard hut and through the gate before turning left to leave the palace grounds. She’d hardly walked a block when Malcolm fell into step beside her.
She didn’t startle. Indeed, she’d been expecting him to turn up again.
“I’m beginning to worry about you,” he said.
