Page 40 of Fake Fiancée, Real Baby
Meritoir was the family’s country retreat — a grand estate some fifty kilometers from the capital, and the place Adrien had spent most of his summers when he was back from school. But given the additional circumstances, Adrien didn’t think Claire would agree.
“I’ll ask her,” he said, though he was grateful to his mother for not belittling Claire or thinking less of her.
“Marrying into this house means shouldering a great responsibility. I did wonder if she was ready for it. It all happened so fast,” his mother replied, giving him a knowing look.
Adrien wondered if she suspected something — mothers could usually tell…
“It did. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love her. I don’t believe in putting limits on these things. I think I loved her from the first moment I laid eyes on her,” Adrien said.
It wasn’t entirely true, or perhaps it was. Love at first sight seemed a somewhat idealized notion, and yet there’d been something about Claire from the start. It was that difference that had first attracted him, and that difference had led to fascination and delight. There was no doubt in Adrien’s mind as to his love for Claire — a love that would only grow stronger if it was allowed to.
“It makes me glad to hear you say that, Adrien. It’s what I always wanted for you. And I was starting to fear it wouldn’t happen.That’s why you’ve got to make sure it works — for her as well as for you.”
It was sage advice, and Adrien was grateful to his mother for her words, but still nothing had changed. Claire’s mind was made up, or so it seemed, and no amount of flowers or romantic gestures could change that. In that moment, Adrien realized nothing else mattered — not the trapping of his rank and privilege, nor what he could give her. All that mattered was the heart — both their hearts — and if he was to win Claire back from her doubts, he had to prove his sincerity once and for all. There wasn’t a moment to lose, and with his heart and mind resolved, Adrien was willing to do whatever it took.
CHAPTER 21
CLAIRE
Claire was busy packing. She’d avoided Adrien since their last encounter, telling Esme to keep him away. She hadn’t wanted to see him. It would only upset them both. It was better for her to slip away unseen and not make a fuss.
She’d booked a plane ticket from Amsterdam to Detroit, and planned to have the baby quietly, before finding a job as a chef somewhere locally. Gibson’s Hamburger Emporium was recruiting — she’d seen an advert in theDetroit Echo.From one life to another. That was the way of things, and Claire was determined to make the best of whatever was to be. She wouldn’t ask for money, and she wouldn’t take any money, either. There’d be no story to sell, no million-dollar exclusive splashed over some trashy tabloid.
It’ll be as though I was never here.
With a sigh, she packed the last of her things into her suitcase. She’d come with hardly anything, and she was leaving with hardly anything, too.
Except the memories.
Scrolling through the pictures on her phone, she slowed as she came to the pictures from the yacht. There was one Anton had taken of her and Adrien with the steamed sponge pudding. They’d been so happy then — and here in Flandenne, too. Those first few weeks had been bliss — lying together in bed, relaxing in the garden, holding hands. How simple it had all seemed. It hadn’t been a show, not at all. It had meant something. It had all meant something. She thought back to the night of the engagement party, and how he’d guided her through what could’ve been such an awkward set of encounters. With a sigh, she shook her head.
It’s for the best. We can’t be certain it would’ve worked.
But Claire wasn’t naïve. She knew relationships took work. It wasn’t all smooth sailing, even as her mind was made up.
“Will that be everything, Miss Bellamy?” Esme asked. “There’s a car coming for you. Shall I inform His Royal Highness?”
Claire shook her head. She didn’t want a tearful farewell — or any farewell. They’d said what they had to say, but part of her wanted to leave something behind — a memory, at least. She’d inform Adrien when the baby was born. He might want to visit or be somehow involved in his upbringing. But that would come later — as for now, Clairedidhave one thought in mind.
“No,” she replied. “I just need to go down to the kitchen for something, then I’ll go.”
Claire found Monsieur Faronne making soufflés. Over the past few weeks, she’d become a regular visitor to the palace kitchens, and the chef greeted her warmly.
“What recipes are you bringing for me today?” he asked, as Claire came to join him in front of the oven, where he was watching the rising desserts through the glass.
“It’s a dish of langoustines. I made them for Adrien… for the prince, on the first day we met,” Claire replied.
It was a simple dish, but food invoked memories, and just the like the steamed sponge pudding reminded Adrien of being a kid at boarding school, Claire hoped the langoustines would remind him of her.
The chef glanced at her and smiled. “Ah, how delicious. Do you have the recipe?”
Claire nodded. It was one she’d made up — inspired by the dishes on the menu at Le Paradisin Monaco. But she’d written it down for Monsieur Faronne, hoping he’d make it for Adrien as a reminder of happier times.
“It’s quite simple, really. A very Mediterranean dish. His Royal Highness was particularly fond of it,” she said, handing the chef the piece of paper she’d written the details on.
He read it over and smiled. “You’ll have to show me. Perhaps it could be a dish at the wedding reception. That’s why I’m testing these soufflés. Her Majesty wants to go through the menus tomorrow. I’m surprised you haven’t insisted on designing it all yourself.”
Claire blushed. She’d pushed all thoughts of the wedding aside, not wanting to even think about the possibility it might still go ahead. Around her, the preparations continued, but Claire had already left them far behind.
