“And leave the boy in your own room.”

I carried Theodore down the back staircase, keeping my wool socks silent on the runners.

The lower hallway smelled of pine wax and old paper.

When I got to the heavy side door, I slid the brass bolt back half an inch and left it sitting loose in the plate.

I didn’t go back to the maid’s quarters in the west wing.

I went back upstairs with Theodore wrapped tight against my ribs, his hot face on my collarbone.