“A worthy endeavor, to be sure.” Stephen finished copying the tattoo and was surprised to see Royce had set the book aside.

“No, truly. I want to be a soldier.” The earnest tone in the boy’s voice and the solemnity of his posture gave Stephen pause.

“Maybe,” he agreed. “But soldiers must be disciplined and loyal. Is that something you can do?”

Royce nodded. Then he came closer and stood beside him. “You have that part wrong,” he said. Stephen handed him the pen, and Royce redrew the tattoo. “There.”

“Thank you.” Even with Royce’s correction, the design was nothing like anything he’d seen before. “Do you know this symbol?”

“I don’t know what it means, but Father had one on his arm.”

“When did he get it?”

Royce lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “A year ago. When he went to India with Anant.”

“Where is Anant now?”

Royce shrugged. “In the village, I think. Father made him leave when we had no money for servants.”

It was worth investigating. The man might be able to shed light on the meaning of the tattoo. Stephen set the design aside, intending to ask Emily to accompany him to the village later. “Do you truly wish to be a soldier when you’re older?”

Royce bobbed his head again. Stephen didn’t mention that, as Daniel’s only heir, it was unlikely Royce would ever have such an opportunity. But the boy needed to learn how to govern his own lands, since he’d inherited his father’s title of Baron Hollingford.

“Then you’ll have to learn how to ride a horse, won’t you?”

A sudden shining hope dawned in Royce’s eyes. “We never—I mean, I never rode a horse before.” Royce took Stephen’s hand in his. “Can we go now?”

At the feeling of the small palm grasping his, a tightness rose up in Stephen’s chest. He wanted to be a different man than his father had been. Though Royce was not his flesh and blood, the boy was now his responsibility. He would be the one to teach Royce how to sit a horse, how to command the animal.

“Yes, we can go now.”

With the boy’s hand tucked in his own, Stephen passed Emily on the way, offering her a look of what-could-I-do? while Royce babbled on.

“And I’m going to learn how to gallop and I’ll go faster than anyone!”

His wife had a smudge of flour in her honey-gold hair, and never had any woman looked more delectable. He wanted to brush the flour aside, kissing her senseless.

“The cake was delicious.” He caught her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist.

“You said you liked strawberries. I was in the mood to bake a cake, so…” She shrugged, as though it were nothing.

But she had tried to please him, had created the dish with her own hands. She cared.