Alice was grateful for the choice. It was unusual for a guest, let alone two guests, to wander belowstairs, and Mrs. Berman seemed like the protective sort. “Yes, if you don’t mind. Actually, we could bake the loaves, if you like. That way, you needn’t stay up and wait.”

The cook showed Alice how to turn off the heat when they were done with baking. “Otherwise, you’ll burn the whole place down,” Mrs. Berman warned.

“I won’t forget. You have my word,” Alice said.

“Good. Bake them for thirty minutes, then apply two layers of syrup with the brush. That will give them a nice shine and help them last.”

“Understood. Thank you, Mrs. Berman. This has been a wonderful lesson and I appreciate your time.”

“Of course, miss.” Mrs. Berman patted Alice’s hand, then she leaned in to say quietly, “If you need me, I am at the end of the hall.”

Alice bit her lip and nodded. Kit posed no danger to her, but the sweet cook didn’t know that. “Mr. Ward will help me clean up.”

Mrs. Berman nodded and they all exchanged good-nights. When they were alone, Kit approached the worktable. His shoulders seemed impossibly wide, his expression ridiculously charming. He was overwhelming in the best way possible, the sort that set her belly afire with longing.

Too bad he wasn’t the marrying type.

Distance, Alice. Keep up those walls.

He leaned a hip against the table and dragged a fingertip over her cheek. It came away with cinnamon on it. “Well, well. Why am I not surprised to find you down here?”

She swallowed, pushed her inconvenient feelings aside and tried to unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “I was watching Mrs. Berman make bread.”

“I can see that. Do you do this often?”

“No. Just tonight. Why?”

“Always off getting lessons, aren’t you?” He cocked his head. “Franconi, Mrs. Berman, me. You’re forever learning, trying to soak up knowledge.”

“Is that not the point of life? To try and learn as much as we can while we’re here? Besides, women don’t have as many opportunities for learning as men do.”

“Most women your age don’t concern themselves with learning. They’re worried about parties and invitations and dresses.”

“I think if given the opportunity, more women would choose learning first. It’s hard to win a race when you’re always starting from behind.” She put the loaf pans in the oven, then cleaned her hands on the apron. “Thirty minutes and then we brush them.”

“You look at home here in the kitchen. Happy. Confident.”

Did he suspect just how deep her passion for cooking ran? “I like spending time in a kitchen. Food makes memories and creates stories, and each of those stories brings people joy. It’s like love on a plate.”