“He was here for Mr. Richardson’s funeral, of course, but his wife needed him in Baimbury. So after making certain I could manage the paperwork for Mrs. Richardson, he went back home.”

“And how did you come to own it?”

“Mrs. Richardson sold it to me for what money I could come up with at the time—which was not much more than what Mr. Broadcreek had offered her—with the understanding that we would sell at the end of two months. I would get my money back plus twenty-five percent of the increased value.”

“But if you marry before then—”

“My husband will take control of the business. None of the men coming through that door would fulfill the agreement I have with Mrs. Richardson. I will have swindled a woman I care deeply about and hurt the wife of a man I greatly respected.”

“Why don’t you just tell these men no?”

Miss Barton’s shoulders drooped. “I have, and I do, but Lord Bryant—” She threw her hands up in the air. “They waste so much of my time. Mrs. Richardson didn’t sell me this business so I could dally about with men in the office. If we are going to complete the paperwork and raise the funds we need to build another rail line in two months, I have a crushing amount of work to do each day.”

Everton nodded thoughtfully. Her plan wasn’t a bad one. If he weren’t working like the devil to keep Lady Emily from succumbing to her father’s wishes, helping Diana would be simple enough. Distracting even. Any distraction was a good one. “What, exactly, would you have me do?”

“Stay at the office a while. Add credence to my claim that we are seriously involved, perhaps on the brink of marriage.”

Marriage? Everton blinked twice, placed his hand on Miss Barton’s desk, and leaned in. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head to clear it. “I thought for a moment you said marriage.”

“Yes, I want to make certain the men coming here feel thwarted. They need to think your intent is serious.”

He lowered his brows. “No one would believe I would marry you.”

Her face paled slightly, and she sat straighter in her seat. Perhaps he should have worded that better, but he had made it quite clear to all of London he would never marry again. She should have known better than to spread that particular rumor.

“As long as they believe I believe it, that should at least deter some of them. So if you kindly refrain from making disparaging remarks like the previous one, I believe we can still make this work.”

“It wasn’t meant to be a disparaging remark, only a statement of fact. I’ve been married once, and I have made it no secret I will never marry again.”

He waited for it—the look that would find its way to almost every young woman’s eyes when he made that statement.

Determination.

Young women would try to change his mind. Older women would calculate which sweet young girl would be the one to convert him to the idea of marriage. Nothing was more intriguing than a titled man of his fortune and age vowing never to marry.