“No,” Blake said, feeling something very warm and very odd in the vicinity of his heart. “I think that might be the least silly thing I've heard in years.”

Chapter 9

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.