Predictably, Mrs. Oliver nodded. “Of course.” Mrs. Oliver looked frantically about the room. “In fact, we are nearly out of . . . candles. It is fortunate you came—I don’t like to leave Miss Barton here on her own. I’ll just pop out and buy some. I will be back within five minutes.”

Diana shook her head back and forth but stopped when Lord Bryant turned his head to look at her. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that she was calm and collected and not at all intimidated by Lord Bryant. Certainly he was a baron and a well-known rake, but somewhere deep inside, she had always thought him to be a gentleman as well.

That gentleman could very well have been a man of her own making though. Her silly eighteen-year-old heart had most likely measured his good looks and assumed they must be matched by a goodness in his heart.

Hopefully there was a grain of truth in her foolishness, for now, she absolutely knew better. More often than not, it was the handsome men one had to watch out for.

Lord Bryant gave Mrs. Oliver a wink. Did good men wink at matronly ladies? “Why don’t you make that ten minutes, Miss Oliver. Much has happened since I have last seen Miss Barton. She is always so busy here at the office; she doesn’t make time to inform me of anything.” Mrs. Oliver sighed with a silly half grin on her face and nodded in agreement with him. “I want to make certain she feels the full effect of my disappointment in her.”

Mrs. Oliver bounced away from her desk like a fifteen-year-old. A woman her age should be immune to Bryant’s charms. How had she suddenly turned into a schoolgirl with just a few words?

“We have enough candles for a few days,” Diana said. “Surely they can wait.”

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Oliver was already putting on her hat. “When we have someone here to watch over you, we should take advantage of the opportunity.” She drew out every syllable of her last few words.

Diana would murder her.

Only after Mrs. Oliver gave her the candles, of course. They really were running low.

Mrs. Oliver scurried out of the office, and then it was simply Lord Bryant and Diana.

Alone.

He came toward her in a steady stroll, each long, slim leg stepping forward with a promise of retribution. One didn’t go about using Baron Bryant for one’s own personal gain. Not without some sort of repercussion.

She could grovel and apologize, but the image of him turning her down in his study without even bothering to hear her out flashed into her mind. No, she had made this choice for a reason. Lord Bryant was the perfect excuse to send would-be suitors away. Her scheme had worked flawlessly. Two weeks ago, she would never have had the time to finish this order. She would have still been trying to dispose of Mr. Winston. Now she was protected by just a hint of a relationship to Lord Bryant.