She shook her head once again, and the same wayward tendril bounced against her pale skin. “No, I’m quite convinced you are the only man who is suitable for what I have in mind.”

He slid his chair away from his desk and stood. The ground swayed beneath him for a moment, but it steadied. He needed more sleep. Good sleep. How long had it been since he’d had a full night of rest?

Years.

He stepped around his desk and crossed to the middle of the room, close enough that he could see the fire in Miss Barton’s eyes. They were similar in color to his brandy, familiar and deep because of it. It was as if he had been staring into them long before she had arrived. “Miss Barton, your timing is unfortunate.” He gave her a smile. Brick walls would only encourage a woman like Miss Barton, who traipsed through London and stormed his study. Despite her bold claims of wanting to be ruined, she held herself aloft like a lady. He could scare away most proper young ladies with honeyed words and phrases. And when those didn’t work, a simple touch would do the trick. The idea of Lord Bryant, the rake, was often enticing but only while he remained a vague threat. “You see . . .” He stepped forward, bringing himself well within an arm’s reach of her. “I only ruin young ladies before dinner.” His arm lifted, his forefinger pointed toward her throat, ready to caress that delicate curl of hair. He stopped himself and pulled his hand back. “You will have to come back tomorrow.”

Instead of backing away, one of her feet slid forward, and her hand went to her waist. Her lips curled into a smile. “I am busy during the day.”

“And I am busy during the night. It seems this ongoing ruination you have planned for us simply isn’t in the cards. Our schedules won’t permit it.”

Miss Barton’s chest rose and fell, and a small crease folded between her dark, sweeping eyebrows. “I wouldn’t take up much of your time, just a meeting here and there to cause a bit of a scandal. Heaven knows you have had plenty of those.”

“Not with the sister of a man I respect and who manages to tolerate me. Your brother only just started allowing me to invest with him, and the return on that investment has been phenomenal. I’ll not put it at risk.”

She popped out one of her shapely hips and raised an eyebrow, the furrow long gone. “Nate doesn’t really tolerate you.”

“He takes my money.” Which was really all that mattered. He didn’t want to form an attachment to the man. He needed no one’s respect.

Miss Barton smiled, and if he thought she looked confident before, her full smile changed her into a woman with no fear. “I take your money, Lord Bryant.” She leaned forward. “I’ve been running the investment side of the business for six months. If Nate knew I was allowing you to invest with us, he would put a stop to it.”