There was a little scraping of knives and forks and then everyone sat back, Innes letting out a contented sigh.

“Well,” said Pam eventually. “Well. I suppose that might just . . . I mean, it’s a little plain.”

“It was magnificent,” said Fintan crossly. “Gala, could you get the chef out?”

Gaspard came out, looking mutinous. “And what?” he said.

“That was amazing,” said Flora, meaning it, and everyone else added in to a round of applause.

Gaspard tried to look like he was still cross with them but couldn’t quite manage it. A tiny twitch appeared on his thin lips. “I have no time! No food! And my team are tellement cretins.”

“But it was still magnificent,” said Flora.

Gaspard sniffed. “Bah oui.”

Chapter 18

K onstantin, exhausted from all the new experiences, was absolutely ready to retire to bed. Working past nine o’clock was, he mused, hardly a practice for gentlemen. He wondered too: he had never once given a thought, in his life, to all the serving staff, the waiters, the barkeeps, the servants at the palace, who stayed up as long as he wanted them to stay up. His feet hurt and his back was sore from bending over to chop, and his hand was throbbing from the cut, even though the bleeding had stopped. How did people do this every day? And how long was he going to have to do it before he either collapsed or got to go home? His father could not be serious about six months.

He heaved a sigh and turned toward the door. A small cough met him as he left, and then a slightly louder one. He turned back. The little scullery maid Isla was standing there, blushing as usual and looking apologetic. Tiresome. He wanted to go to bed.

“What is it?”

She gestured to the kitchen, which was covered in grease and spattered remains of chip fat and onions.

“What?” he said again, but with a steady sinking feeling in his stomach. They couldn’t be serious.

“Uhm, we kind of need to clean up,” she said, so quietly he could barely hear her, and that accent was totally ridiculous.

He held up his bandaged finger. “Uh, I know, but I’m in terrible agony.”

“Lazy boy!” came a voice from the other side of the kitchen. “Work!! I make deener for you.”

Konstantin noticed that Gaspard had fired up the grill again and appeared to be about to make them all the rest of the steaks. He also noticed that he himself was completely and utterly starving; he had been too worked up to realize just how hungry he was. He hadn’t eaten all day and the steaks smelled absolutely unbelievable. Gaspard was smearing them with garlic butter, and the pan was sizzling with lightly popping fat.

“But do eet properly!”

“I do it properly!”

There was massed laughter from everyone in the kitchen. “No, you don’t!”

Konstantin was annoyed. He’d been slogging his guts out, for God’s sake.