With a sigh of impatience, Royce withdrew his gaze from Jenny and looked at her foolish sister. "Would you care to tell me why you did?"

"Yes."

It was actually all she was going to say, Royce realized. "Very well, then tell me."

"I… we"-she cast a look of sheer misery at Jenny, then plunged ahead-"we… would like very much to be given thread and needles."

Royce's gaze swung suspiciously to the person most likely to have conceived some way of using needles to his own physical discomfort, but today Lady Jennifer Merrick returned his gaze levelly, her face subdued, and he felt an odd sense of disappointment that her bravado had been depleted so quickly. "Needles?" he repeated, frowning at her.

"Yes," Jenny answered in a carefully modulated voice that was neither challenging nor submissive, but calmly polite as if she'd quietly accepted her fate. "The days grow long and we have little to do. My sister, Brenna, suggested we spend the time sewing."

"Sewing?" Royce repeated, disgusted with himself for keeping them bound and under heavy guard. Lionel was right-Jenny was merely a small female. A young, reckless, headstrong girl with more bravado than sense. He'd overestimated her simply because no other prisoner brought before him had dared to strike him. "What do you think this is, the queen's drawing room?" he snapped. "We don't have any of those-" His brain stalled as he searched for the names of the contraptions which women at court spent hours of every day sewing upon with embroidery thread.

"Embroidery hoops?" Jenny provided helpfully.

His eyes raked over her in disgust. "I'm afraid not-no embroidery hoops."

"Perhaps a small quilting frame then?" she added, innocently widening her eyes as she held back her laughter.

"No!"

"There must be something we could use needle and thread on," Jenny added swiftly when he turned to leave. "We'll go quite mad with nothing to do, day after day. It doesn't matter what we sew. Surely you must have something that needs sewing-"