"What's around the back of the house?" I asked.

"Outbuildings, orchard, walled garden and tennis court."

"Tennis! Do you play?"

"Play?"

"Yes. Tennis. Do you play?"

"No."

"You've never challenged Seth or Gus to a game?"

"There is no time for games at Lichfield Towers."

"How dull. I'm sure the men would appreciate a little time to play games like tennis or cards."

"I've seen them play cards after dinner."

"You've never joined them?"

"Rarely."

"Is that because they don't ask or because you don't want to play?"

His only answer was to increase his speed. I had to trot to remain alongside him.

"You don't talk much," I said. If he wanted to keep a close eye on me, I might as well annoy him. It was my duty as his prisoner.

"You ask too many questions."

"Ha! That's rich coming from you. You only ever ask questions."

"I haven't asked you any today."

"It is only mid-morning. I expect them to come after Seth and Gus return."

"You are probably right."

I glanced sideways at him, but he kept his gaze directly ahead. He did slow down somewhat, which was just as well since I was starting to get a little breathless.

"You've almost finished the book." His attempt at starting a new conversation that had nothing to do with my background surprised me. I was growing used to his silences.

"It's a good book."

"Nor have you asked me the meaning of any of the words."

"So?"

"You're educated."

Ah, there it was. His attempt at digging into my past had begun more subtly this time, but he'd ruined it with that comment. "Very observant, Sherlock."

He said nothing.

"Sherlock is the character in the book I'm reading," I explained. "He's very observant."

"I've read it."

"Oh. So you didn't find my reference clever or amusing enough to bother replying, or even smirking."

"I didn't say that."

"I see. You only thought me clever and amusing. Be careful, Mr. Fitzroy, I've heard that keeping your emotions bottled up will rot your insides."

"You have a dry sense of humor. I wasn't expecting that."

"And you, sir, have no sense of humor whatsoever."

When he didn't answer, I worried that I'd offended him. Then I told myself to stop worrying. He was my jailor; his feelings were of no concern to me. Besides, I doubted he had feelings.

"Why do Gus and Seth call you Death?"

"Because I've killed people."

My step faltered. I'd been trying to goad him again, and wasn't expecting his frankness. "How many?"

"Enough."

"Why did you kill them?"

"They talked too much."

I stopped altogether, but he continued on, not caring that he was leaving me behind. I blinked rapidly, then realized he was teasing me.

"And you call my sense of humor dry," I muttered when I caught up to him near the stables. "Yours is positively parched."

We walked past the stables and other outbuildings, then crossed the courtyard and headed up the back steps. He opened the door for me and I went inside. We were in the service area, near the kitchens if the delicious smell of baking bread was an indication.