The door stood open and he seemed in no hurry to close it. Alice walked toward him, intent on shutting it, and was surprised when he quickly staggered away from her in the opposite direction. She closed them in and chewed on her lip. So, it was her. Clearly, she had done something to upset him. “Kit, is there something wrong?”

He threw his jacket onto a chair, then swept his hand out like an Elizabethan courtier. “I’m drunk.”

“I can see that. I meant—”

“What is that?” He strode unevenly to the nightstand. “Is that the bread you were making? Goddamn, that looks fucking delicious.” Picking it up, he lifted the slice of babka to his mouth.

“Yes, I thought you should have the first piece, since you helped me—good Lord. Did you just put that entire thing in your mouth?”

Cheeks bulging, he chewed and let out a groan. “Mmm. Delicious,” he managed to garble. After he swallowed, he said, “You are an amazing cook, Alice.”

Perhaps, but she wasn’t supposed to be.

Ladies don’t sweat in a kitchen. Ladies sip tea and let others sweat in a kitchen.

She could almost hear her mother’s voice. Mama had forbade Alice’s culinary pursuits eons ago. That didn’t mean Alice didn’t still sneak into the kitchen every chance she got, though. When she married and had her own household, Alice would cook and bake as much as she pleased.

Another reason why she needed Kit’s lessons. The sooner she found a husband, the sooner she could have said kitchen.

Kit unbuttoned his vest, pushed it off his shoulders and let the silk fall to the floor. Then he removed his bow tie and collar. Alice was too fascinated to complain. Was he planning on disrobing right in front of her?

You should say something. You are taking advantage of his inebriation.

“Kit, perhaps—”

“Help me with these damn cuff links, will you?” He held out his wrists.

“I should go and let you rest,” she said, though her feet didn’t move.

He began struggling with the silver at his wrist. “You’re a good person, Alice. Do you know that?”

She couldn’t stave off the small grin. Drunk Kit was adorable. “As are you.”

“No.” He shook his head, his tousled hair going in all directions. “I am most definitely not.” One cuff link hit the carpet and he began working on the other.

Taking pity, she went to assist him. “Here. Give me your hand.”

His mouth hitched as he presented his wrist. “See? Good person. Even though I am thinking very dangerous things about you, here you are, trying to help me.”

“Dangerous things?” Picking up the discarded cuff link, she set both on the dresser. “What does that mean? Are you upset about what happened in the kitchen?”

He sat heavily on the bed. “Upset? Fuck, no. I don’t get upset. Ever.”

He didn’t?