As if nothing had happened.

Miss Barton slid the paper she had been reading to the side and concentrated on the one that had been below it. Surely the woman wasn’t so unaffected by him.

He strode to her chair and lifted her by her hands until she was standing close to him once again. Paper and ink flooded his nose.

“That rascal could come back at any moment. You can’t look as though kissing me had no influence on you whatsoever.”

Miss Barton’s eyes slid to the window. He couldn’t see it, but he hadn’t heard the carriage pull away yet. Her dark, copper eyes found their way back to his, that chin of hers lifting as haughtily as ever.

Lord Bryant tilted his head. “I hope this little episode hasn’t made you want to change your mind. It is a little late now. If you can’t handle being kissed by me, you shouldn’t have invited me to cause a scandal with you.”

“No, I don’t want to change my mind.”

“Good.” He grinned at her, paying close attention to her pleasantly swollen lips. His glance didn’t escape her notice, and a slight blush rose in her neck. A small fragment in the back of his mind relaxed. She wasn’t so unaffected after all. “I find I like ruining your reputation just fine.”

Miss Barton took a deep breath and ran her fingers up the pen in her hand. “I’m glad you find it no trouble.”

“No trouble at all.”

“But if we are ever put in a similar situation, where we need to display affection in front of one of my would-be suitors . . .” She paused, and for the first time since he had set foot in her office, she looked unsure.

“Try to do it less convincingly?” he asked. “I’m afraid that, my dear, isn’t in my power.”

“No, that wasn’t what I was going to say.”

He leaned forward. He never seemed to guess correctly what would come out of her mouth next. “What were you going to say?”

She cleared her throat and swallowed, making the hollows of her neck more pronounced. “Only that you should feel free to mess up my hair a little.”

A laugh rose from deep within his chest. A scandal with Miss Barton was going to be more diverting than he had thought. “I won’t forget,” he said. And he meant it. Already he was imagining his fingers curled into the nape of her neck. “Do you think anyone else will come today?”

Her fingers paused on the pen. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if they did. I usually get multiple men coming each afternoon, but the number has slowed down significantly.”

“Because of my portrait there?”

“Yes.”

“Well, in that case, I will most certainly be taking it with me when I go.” If he had to choose between a portrait sending men away or doing it himself, he would do it himself. He hadn’t felt this alive in ages, and even if Miss Barton had been nearly unaffected by his kiss, at least she hadn’t been revolted by him.