“Well,” she said aloud, “it could be worse.”

Three hours later Caroline had discovered that the only way to stave off boredom in the washing room was to entertain herself by listing all of the situations that would be worse than her current one.

It wasn't easy.

She immediately dismissed all sorts of fanciful scenarios, like being trampled by a two-headed cow, and instead concentrated on more realistic possibilities.

“He could have a small washing room,” she said to her reflection in the mirror. “Or it could be very dirty. Or…or or or…or he could forget to feed me.”

Her lips twisted into a peevish line. The bloody man had forgotten to feed her!

“The room could have no windows,” she tried, glancing up at the aperture. She grimaced. One would have to possess an extraordinarily optimistic nature to call that little sliver of glass a window.

“He could have a pet hedgehog,” she said, “which he keeps in the basin.”

“It's unlikely,” came a male voice, “but possible.”

Caroline looked up to see Blake in the doorway. “Where have you been?” she hissed. “I'm starving.”

He tossed her a scone.

“You're too kind,” she muttered, wolfing it down. “Was that my main course or merely an appetizer?”

“You'll be fed, don't worry. I thought Perriwick was going to have palpitations when he heard where you were hiding. I imagine he and Mrs. Mickle are preparing a feast even as we speak.”

“Perriwick is clearly a nicer man than you.”

He shrugged. “No doubt.”

“Did you manage to intercept all the servants before they mentioned me to Penelope?”

“Yes. We're safe, have no fear. And I have your things. I moved them to my room.”

“I'm not staying in your room!” she said, rather huffily.

“I never said you were. You're certainly free to remain here in the washing room. I'll find some blankets and a pillow for you. With a little ingenuity, we can make this place quite comfortable.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You're enjoying this, aren't you?”

“Only a touch, I assure you.”

“Did Penelope ask after me?”

“Indeed. She has already written you a letter asking you to pay a call tomorrow afternoon.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small envelope, and gave it to her.

“Well, that is certainly a boon,” Caroline grumbled.

“I shouldn't complain, were I you. At least it means you can escape the washing room.”

Caroline stared at him, really annoyed by his smile. She stood and planted her hands on her hips.

“My, my, we're looking militant this afternoon, aren't we?”

“Don't condescend to me.”

“But it's so much fun.”

She hurled a chamber pot at him. “You can use this in your own room!”

Blake ducked and then laughed despite himself when the pot broke into pieces against the wall. “Well, I suppose one can take some comfort in the fact that it wasn't full.”

“If it had been full,” she hissed, “I would have aimed at your head.”