It tasted all the sweeter because of it.
He offered some to Royce, who used his bare fingers to soak a piece of cake in cream. “Mmm…” the boy sighed. With strawberry streaks upon his lips, he wiped his hands upon his trousers and returned to his book.
After he’d finished the dessert, Stephen set the plate aside. He’d have to thank Emily for it later, and that was something he anticipated with pleasure.
He balanced the mirror against a stack of books on the side of his desk. Then he loosened his shirt, placing the mirror between his knees to see the design more clearly.
“I wonder if this tattoo has any meaning,” he mused out loud.
Royce merely licked his finger and turned the page.
“Of course, I’m certain your father never told you what it was. Such a thing would be quite a secret.”
Royce shifted in his seat but said nothing.
Stephen traced the design, dipping his pen into the inkwell. The swirling black symbols resembled an ancient language. Quentin had thought it might be Sanskrit.
“Did your father ever travel to the Orient?” Stephen asked.
“Yes.” Royce turned the book over, holding it up to the light. “And I’m going to travel to India someday.”
“Why India?”
“Our butler was from India. Anant was his name. He used to tell me stories of battles between his people and ours. He once slit a man’s belly with his sword.”
“Did he, now?”
“Someday, I shall learn how to slit a man’s belly.”
“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.
