e-gre-gious (adjective). Remarkable in a bad sense; gross, flagrant, outrageous.

My mouth often displays an egregious disregard for discretion, circumspection, and good sense of any kind.

-From the personal dictionary of

Caroline Trent

Caroline's ankle was much improved the fol­lowing day, although she still required a cane to walk. Finishing her work in the library, however, was out of the question; she was clumsy enough without trying to move huge stacks of books while balancing on one foot. There was no telling what sort of mess she might make while still handi­capped by a swollen ankle.

At supper the previous night, James had men­tioned that she might draw a floor plan of Prewitt Hall. Blake, who had been most uncommunicative throughout the meal, had grunted in the affirmative when she had asked him if he thought that was a good idea. Eager to impress her hosts, she sat down at a desk in the blue room and began her sketch.

Mapping out the floor plan, however, proved to be more difficult than she had supposed, and soon the floor was littered with crumpled-up pieces of paper whose drawings she had deemed unaccept­able. After thirty minutes of aborted attempts, she finally declared, out loud and to herself, "I have a new appreciation and respect for architects."

"I beg your pardon?"

Caroline looked up in mortification at having been caught talking to herself. Blake was standing in the doorway, but she couldn't quite tell if his expression was amused or irritated.

"I was just talking to myself," she stammered.

He smiled, and she decided with relief that he was amused. "Yes, that much is clear," he said. "Something about architects, I believe?"

"I am trying to draw a plan of Prewitt Hall for you and the marquis," she explained, "only I cannot get it right."

He walked to the desk and leaned over her shoul­der to study her current drawing. "What seems to be the problem?"

"I can't seem to get the sizes of the rooms right. I-I-" She gulped. He was awfully close, and the scent of him brought back powerful memories of their stolen kiss. He smelled of sandalwood and

mint and something else she couldn't identify.

"Yes?" he prodded.

"I... ah... well, you see, it's terribly difficult to get the shapes and the sizes of the rooms right at the same time." She pointed to her diagram. "I started by drawing all of the rooms on the west side of the main hall, and I had thought I'd gotten them right..."

He leaned in a little closer, which caused her to lose her train of thought. "Then what happened?" he murmured.

She swallowed. "Then I got to the last room be­fore the south wall, and I realized I hadn't left enough space." She jabbed her ungloved finger at the tiny room at the rear. "It looks like nothing more than a closet here, but in actuality it's bigger than this room." She pointed at another square on her map.

"What is that room?"

"This one?" Caroline asked, her finger still oc­cupying the larger square.

"No, the one you said should be larger."

"Oh, that is the south drawing room. I don't know very much about it other than that it ought to be bigger than I've shown. I wasn't allowed to go in there."

Blake's ears immediately perked up. "You don't say?"

She nodded. "Oliver called it his House of Trea­sures, which I always thought was rather silly, see­ing as how it wasn't a house at all but just a room."

"What sort of treasures did he keep there?"

"That's the odd thing," Caroline replied. "I don't know. Whenever he bought something new -which

he frequently did and I tend to think he was using my money-" She blinked, having completely lost track of what she was saving.

"When he bought something new," Blake prod­ded, with what he thought was remarkable pa­tience.

"Oh, yes," she answered. "Well, when he bought something new, he liked to crow about it and ad­mire it for weeks. And he always made certain that Percy and I admired it as well. So if he bought a new candelabra, one could be assured that it would be on display in the dining room. And if he bought a priceless vase, then-well, I'm sure you under­stand my meaning. It would be completely unlike him to purchase something rare and expensive and then hide it away from view."

Blake didn't say anything, so she added, "I've been rambling, haven't I?"

He stared at the map intently, then shifted his gaze to her eyes. "And you say he keeps this room locked?"

"All the time."

"And Percy isn't allowed to enter, either?"

She shook her head. "I don't think Oliver has very much respect for Percy."

Blake exhaled, feeling a familiar rush of excite­ment coursing through him. It was at times like these mat he remembered why he had first gotten involved with the War Office, and why he had stayed with it for so many years, even though it had taken so much away from him.

He'd long ago realized that he liked to solve problems, to put little pieces of a puzzle together until the entire picture presented itself in his mind.

And Caroline Trent had just told him where Oliver Prewitt was hiding his secrets.

"Caroline," he said without thinking, "I could kiss you."

She looked up sharply. "You could?"

But Blake's mind had already jumped ahead, and not only did he not hear Caroline, he hadn't even noticed that he'd told her he could kiss her. He was already thinking of that little corner room at Prewitt Hall, and how he'd seen it from the outside when he'd been spying on the house, and what was the best way to get inside, and-

"Mr. Ravenscroft!"

He blinked and looked up at Caroline. "I thought I told you to call me Blake," he said absently.

"I did," she replied. "Three times."

"Oh. Terribly sorry." Then he looked back down at her map and ignored her again.

Caroline wrinkled her lips into a grimace that was half-irritated and half-amused, picked up her cane, and headed for the door. Blake was so en­grossed in his thoughts he probably wouldn't notice that she was gone. But just when her hand touched the doorknob, she heard his voice.

"How many windows in mis room?"

She turned around, confused. "I beg your par­don?"

"This secret room of Prewitt's. How many win­dows does it contain?"

"I'm not sure, precisely. I hardly ever went in­side, but I certainly know the grounds well, and... Let me think." Caroline started pointing with her finger as she mentally counted the windows on the outside of Prewitt Hall. "Now then, that's three for the dining room," she murmured, "and two for the- One!" she exclaimed.

"Just one window? In a corner room?"

"No, I meant to say mat there is only one window on the west wall, but on the south-" Her finger started to bob in the air again. "On the south wall there is also just one."

"Excellent," he said, mostly to himself.

"But you will have a devil of a time getting in, if that is your intention."

"Why?"

"Prewitt Hall wasn't built on level land," she ex­plained. "It slopes down to the south and west. And so at that corner there is a good bit of the founda­tion showing. Since I was in charge of the gardens I planted some flowering bushes there to hide it, of course, but-"