"I'll see what I can do," he stated. "I think there are a few sports clubs in town that have classes for slaves. You should look into them. Hockey season has already started and you'd be like lightning on the ice."
He crossed to the fireplace. One of the housemaids had already set a fire ready to be lit, knowing Carrick's habit of reading during the early hours of the morning.
Carrick lit a splint from the box of matches on the mantelpiece, then bent to touch the tip of the flame to the kindling. Once the fire was crackling merrily, he sat down in an easy chair and crossed his legs.
"I've finished reading the history you wrote for me."
As always, his inexpressive, unreadable face gave little away.