Royce wore an apron tied around his waist while smoke wafted from the oven. He wrinkled his nose. “I think it’s done, Uncle Stephen.”

“Is it?”

Oh, dear Lord. Had Mrs. Deepford lost her wits, allowing these two into the kitchen? Emily pushed past them and grabbed a towel. After removing the charred cake, she set her hands on her hips.

“It’s very done.” She eyed her husband, who offered a sheepish grin. “Burned around the edges, in fact. What were you trying to do?”

“Surprise you?” Stephen took Royce by the hand. “We thought we’d bake you a birthday cake.”

Her birthday? She’d forgotten completely. With another glance toward the guilty pair, her heart softened. “Mrs. Deepford could have baked one.”

She examined the cake. Though it was black around the edges, likely it was raw in the middle. They had stoked the fire too hot. “You didn’t have to go to all of this trouble.”

“It was baked with love.” Stephen came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He nipped at her ear, sending shivers through her.

“A great deal of love,” she managed, fighting a laugh. But when his mouth met hers in a soft kiss, she lost sight of everything else. When Stephen broke away, she realized that Royce had left.

“Smart lad,” Stephen commented. “I’ll have to reward him later.”

“He didn’t have to leave.” Emily started to go after him when Stephen stopped her.

“He was obeying orders.” He reached into a small earthenware bowl and drew out a finger dripping with chocolate icing. “Taste this and see if you like it.”

She licked the icing from his finger, letting her tongue slide over his skin. The look in his eyes turned dark and hungry.

“Did you make this?” she asked.

He stole a kiss, melting the sweetness against her mouth. “Mrs. Deepford did.”

The sweet chocolate tempted her, and she reached into the bowl again. Stephen took her finger into his mouth, gently sucking the icing away. With a seductive glint in his eye, he spread more icing upon her lips and proceeded to kiss it off.

“We’ve been invited to Lady Thistlewaite’s dinner party tonight,” Emily reminded him as he nuzzled her neck. The matron had grudgingly begun to include her on the invitation list, at Lady Rothburne’s request.

“I curse the day my mother took you under her wing,” he murmured. “I’d be overjoyed if I never had to attend another society event.”

Sometimes she felt the same way, but for now, she was enjoying herself. She had spent a fortune on new gowns that Stephen’s mother insisted she should have.

“Let’s stay home tonight.” He drew her against his body, fitting her against him.

Emily held him close, strongly contemplating it. “Your family is expecting us. And I would like to attend.”