Diana glanced at Nate before dropping his hand. He was shaking his head, but not out of anger, more out of disbelief. She could accept that. Disbelief could be a stepping stone to acceptance. Diana grabbed the back of the bench in front of her and leaned forward. Lord Bryant wasn’t the only one who enjoyed being theatrical now and again. “I must admit I wouldn’t complain if you found me a Lord. I have always wanted to be called ‘Lady.’”

More gasps at her audacity. Lord Rayleigh stepped forward again, but Lord Bryant silenced him with a movement of his hands. “What of his nose?” Lord Bryant asked. “Are you particular about his nose?”

“No, I’m certain I can live with most noses.”

“How tall would you like him to be?”

“How tall are you, my lord?”

Lord Bryant turned to a scribe. “Please note that her husband-to-be should be six two.”

The scribe nodded, as if in a trance, and jotted it down.

“What else, Miss Barton?”

“Green eyes that sparkle like emeralds when I walk into a room.”

Lord Bryant checked on the scribe. He was still taking notes. A few of the Lords were starting to stand. They wouldn’t allow such ridiculousness for much longer. If they had been in the House of Commons, the speaker would have stopped this nonsense already. Fortunately, this was the House of Lords, and the Lords were expected to govern themselves.

“I shouldn’t like him to be too young either. I think thirty-one would be the perfect age.”

“Why, Miss Barton—” Lord Bryant’s head shot up, as if she had surprised him greatly. “That is exactly my age.”

“Is it?” Diana asked in feigned incredulity.

Lord Bryant held up his fingers as he counted off her qualifications. “Six two, a lord with any type of nose, and thirty-one years of age . . .” He looked around the room as if assessing all the men there. “There is nothing more to be done, I suppose. My Lords, I would like to propose that Miss Diana Barton marry me. There isn’t a man in existence, other than myself, who meets all of her qualifications.”

Lords and spectators alike rose from their seats, some laughing but most shouting in surprise.

The Lord Chancellor banged his gavel to bring everyone back to order. “Lord Bryant,” he said, “you have made your point. Perhaps we were being presumptuous in taking the role of choosing a husband for Miss Barton. But there are less absurd ways to argue your case.”

“Lord Chancellor, I only find this absurd if you select a husband for her that is not me.”

The Lord Chancellor coughed. “You were in earnest?”

“More earnest than I have been about anything in my life.”

Diana clutched the seat in front of her. Tears pricked her eyes, and her chest filled with joyful light. People all over the hall, lords and spectators alike, craned their necks to get a good look at the woman who had finally trapped Lord Bryant into a marriage. Nate had yet to give his permission, but with such a public declaration, it would be difficult to refuse Everton now.