Mr. Winston paused in the middle of signing his name. “Is that your father?”

Diana stifled a groan. She wished she had a talent for watercolor or the time for an oil painting. It was hard to depict youth in charcoal. Perhaps she should get a small portrait of him commissioned. She used this one enough that it might be worth it.

“No, it is not my father.” Diana gave her best simpering look and gently stroked Lord Bryant’s cheek. Time to dive in and be done with Mr. Winston. She leaned forward conspiratorially. “If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to tell anyone?”

Mr. Winston’s brows furrowed as the men’s often did at this point. He was not here to invest, although he had done a much better job of pretending than most. He had made it all the way to the paperwork. Most men couldn’t manage more than a few stilted questions before she needed to pull out her artwork.

“Lord Bryant and I are to be married. It hasn’t been announced yet, so you must keep this solely to yourself.”

“Lord Bryant? The baron?”

“Yes, do you know him?” She widened her eyes and blinked in what she hoped was an enthralled fashion.

“He asked you to marry him?” She could see the unspoken question in his eyes. Lord Bryant wasn’t the marrying type. It had been the one hitch in her plan, but there were ways around Lord Bryant’s reputation.

“Well, not in so many words, but he did say he would send any man who looked at me more than twice on a boat to New South Wales. So surely a proposal won’t be far off.”

Mr. Winston pulled on his cravat. She hated acting like a lovesick schoolgirl in her office. This was her place of work. But if she wanted to get any actual work done, this is what she had to do. And in the three weeks since she had started using the drawing and story, she had seen a significant drop in the number of unmarried men coming in to “invest.”

Thankfully, not all of them were keeping her secret.

“Miss Barton, I don’t know how to put this delicately, but are you quite certain about that man’s intentions? I have heard—”

“Do not repeat rumors to me, Mr. Winston. If you do, I will have to ask you to leave and never return. I cannot abide a man who talks negatively about the man I love.”

She pushed the word love through her teeth. Why was that one so hard to say?

“Even still . . . I feel it is my duty . . .” Mr. Winston paused, perhaps taking in her clenched fists and jaw. She didn’t have time for this today.

“I would be wary of how you finish that sentence, Mr. Winston.”

Mr. Winston stood, picked up his paperwork, narrowed his eyes at the framed portrait, and then cleared his throat. “I’ve just remembered one more thing I need to look over at home before I decide to invest.”