She wouldn’t give it up simply because the man didn’t agree to it.

Diana cleared her throat. “Well, now that you have rid us of my chaperone, what did you have in mind? Didn’t you say something diverting? I haven’t seen you in three weeks, my . . .” Here was that word again. “My love. Diverting is exactly what I was hoping for.”

Lord Bryant’s head tipped to one side, a wicked grin curling the side of one lip. She straightened and smiled back. She wouldn’t cower before Lord Bryant. Yes, she had been using his name without his consent, but he had deserved it.

Surely, somehow, he had deserved it.

“Ah, Diana.” He said her Christian name almost like a sigh. A well-practiced art form for Lord Bryant for certain. She ignored the small burst of thrilling lightness that flared in her stomach. Diana wouldn’t melt like Mrs. Oliver had. “Your attempt to distract me is appreciated, but I must know—why do you have a portrait of me on your desk?”

She didn’t break eye contact. “So that when I miss you, I might look at it.” She didn’t mention the use of her Christian name as she could hardly rebuke him for it. Not after what she had done.

“And do you miss me often?”

She ran her fingers over the wooden frame she had placed the portrait in. “Nearly every day. Although lately it’s been a bit less.” The day before, she hadn’t had to pull it out once.

He took the portrait from her desk. In the process, his fingers grazed the tops of hers before she pulled away. Not too quickly of course. She didn’t want him to think she could be scared off by a simple touch of the hand. As a result of her forbearance, the warmth of his gloved hand lingered on her fingers even after she pulled them to her side. Lord Bryant tipped his head to one side as his eyes roamed the little charcoal drawing. “The nose isn’t quite right. Mine is much more regal.”

Diana held back a laugh. Of course he would see that. “Yes, well, with a nose as regal as yours, can you fault the artist?” Her eyes instinctively went to his strong Roman nose, so perfect in its symmetry. “It is hard to capture.”

A small laugh escaped Lord Bryant’s mouth, and for a moment, his haughty facade seemed to fade. His smooth face brandished a few lines on each side of his eyes. As handsome as he was while playing the devil’s own servant, she preferred that flash of normalcy. But it was gone before she could do much more than take note of it.

Lord Bryant set the portrait back on her desk and strolled over to the one table in the room. He ran his finger along the outside edge while examining the topography maps laid out on it. Everything he touched seemed to light up brightly, then dim as he walked away. She wouldn’t forget where his hands had been in her office.