Diana closed her eyes. The room smelled of Mrs. Cuthbert’s rose perfume and yarn. Mrs. Cuthbert was an interfering old woman. That was the only explanation for it. Lord Bryant had never given her any indication that she could mean more to him than any other person he had met. “I’m sure that isn’t the case.”

“He assured me of that as well. I don’t like to pry into Lord Bryant’s business. He means a lot to me. But I also want to see him happy. And, Miss Barton, I’ve never seen him quite so interested in a person as he is in you. A marriage to Lady Emily would most likely end with Lord Bryant losing his mind. But if you had walked in here today and told me it was your marriage that had been announced—” Mrs. Cuthbert smiled, her eyes glistening as she took a step toward Diana and took her free hand. “I would have congratulated you.”

Diana swallowed. “But you said yourself Lord Bryant will never marry again.”

“No, I said he said that. I happen to disagree with him. But he doesn’t handle my criticism well, so I try not to mention it often. The man has had a hard enough lot in life as it is.”

Diana scoured Mrs. Cuthbert’s face for signs of deceit, but it appeared that she was being sincere. Not many people in London would have the audacity to say that a baron’s lot in life wasn’t a good one. He had brought most of his troubles on himself. So, he had loved his wife and lost her. Did that give him the right to hurt so many other women? Did that give him the right to settle into Diana’s heart only to slide out of it at the first sign of inconvenience? No. Diana was no fool. She would not trust her heart if her head didn’t agree with it. Too many lives were ruined when decisions were made based solely on feelings. “Well, thanks to him, he is sharing that hard lot with all of the women he has scandalized.”

Mrs. Cuthbert threw her head back and laughed. The colors of the room were suddenly suffocating. Diana needed to leave. What kind of company did Lord Bryant keep? She hadn’t thought Mrs. Cuthbert mad, but . . .

“Is he?” Mrs. Cuthbert asked, wiping a tear from one eye and cocking her head to the side. She leaned forward with a strange, mirthful smile on her face. “Do you know any of them?”

Diana didn’t. How could she? She had spent most of her life in Baimbury and most of her time in London on Rochester Street. What was Mrs. Cuthbert trying to say?

“I like you, Miss Barton, and what’s more, I think Lord Bryant likes you. You have something that no other woman of his acquaintance has.”

“What is that?” Diana asked. “A railroad company?”

Mrs. Cuthbert scoffed. “No, not a railroad company.” Mrs. Cuthbert leaned forward, her eyes still shining from the tears of her laughter. “You know what you want. Not only that, you go after it, no matter what anyone else thinks of you. You are no shrinking violet. You are like a . . . a . . .”