“My mind can relax here. My only purpose is to help you, and I can do it most of the time simply by sitting in a chair. For whatever reason, this office is a place of refuge for my thoughts, and I have come to appreciate the hours I spend in this room, your pen scratching away at paper while Mrs. Oliver makes eyes at both of us.”

“Oh.”

Lord Bryant smiled, and if he were allowed to gain points, that smile would have gotten him hundreds. He was winning more points than she was this morning, and he knew it. She needed to come up with more witty things to say than oh.

“Why, then, have we not seen you here for two weeks?”

He pursed his lips together. “I wasn’t sure if your office would still hold the same charm.”

Why? What had changed about her office? “And does it?”

“I’m still not sure.”

He returned to his chair, unfolded the newspaper, and began reading again.

She bent her head back over her work, noticing each time he turned a page and wondering what made him chuckle every so often. Some poor chap’s misfortune, certainly.

That was the kind of man Lord Bryant was. He probably laughed at others’ misfortune, she was quite certain she had heard he was a gambler, and he had no respect for women. He was more than his charming smile or his well-formed arms.

The ink from her pen blotted, and she cursed under her breath. Another chuckle arose from Lord Bryant, and this time, she was fairly certain it wasn’t because of something he’d read. His stillness of mind was the opposite of hers. When he sat in that chair, her mind couldn’t settle. At the moment, she was doubting every single judgment she had just thrown at him.

“A horse just stopped in front of the office,” Lord Bryant said from his chair. “What should I do to chase off this young man?”

He probably wouldn’t have to do anything, as it had been weeks since someone without official business had walked through the door. Diana’s eyes flashed to the window to see a fine black Friesian. Her hands slammed down on her desk. The rider had dismounted on the opposite side, so she couldn’t see him clearly, but she didn’t need to. She would have known that horse anywhere.

“Everton, you need to leave.”

“You called me Everton.” His smile was mischievous as always. He had no clue what trouble he was about to be in or she was about to be in. All of them, really.

“If you go now while he is behind his horse—”

Lord Bryant suddenly took a marked interest in the man outside. “Who is it?”

“There is only one Friesian that would be stopping in front of this office. It’s Bard.”

“And Bard is . . .”

She stood from her desk. “Nate’s horse.” Why wasn’t he leaving already? “My brother.”

“Mr. Barton’s back?” Mrs. Oliver jumped from her seat. “That is marvelous news!”