“Only when men were here.” She turned her head to the side and tried to mimic his unaffected smile. “The few times I forgot, they were inclined to believe you were my father.”

A muscle in Lord Bryant’s jaw clenched, but otherwise he remained smiling. Diana took the small movement as a victory.

“Well, you are quite young, I suppose,” he said with a shrug. “What part of my portrait did you stroke? My cheek?” His eyes darted to her lips, and there could be no doubt in Diana’s mind that he was reliving their kiss. At least she wasn’t the only one. If she wasn’t picturing him sitting on her desk just like he was now, she was remembering that kiss, his hands pulling her possessively to him. “Or perhaps my mouth?”

Diana pursed her lips together. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of using them for his imagination. Nor would she give him the upper hand. She wasn’t exactly sure what kind of game she and Lord Bryant were playing, but showing embarrassment or answering with a dull answer would certainly make her the loser. She put a fist to her hip. “Your nose.”

Lord Bryant’s eyes widened, and he coughed into his hand. Almost a laugh, but not quite. A laugh from Lord Bryant would certainly gain her a point. “My nose?”

“Yes.”

“But my nose wasn’t even correct in that portrait. It had an unbecoming bump.”

“Perhaps that is why I liked it so much. You might be better looking if your nose had a bump.”

He stood and advanced around her desk, catlike and smooth. “I’ll have you know three women commented on the perfection of my nose this week alone.”

Oh, Lord Bryant was good. Diana stood her ground, safely behind her chair. She raised an eyebrow. “But are you sure they were compliments? Too much perfection can be off-putting,” Diana lied through her teeth. She couldn’t think of any other disparagement to give him. How could someone fault Lord Bryant’s looks, other than by saying they were too brilliant? “A man should be a bit rough around the edges.” Another clench in his jaw. She was enjoying this too much. “And surely three women didn’t comment on your nose.”

He pulled his lips to one side and furrowed his eyebrows as if he were solemnly thinking. “You know, I believe you are right. Now that I think of it, it was four women.”

Diana swallowed a scoff in a sound that mimicked Lord Bryant’s earlier cough. She wouldn’t hand him any points by laughing. Instead, she nodded knowingly. “Ah, yes. That sounds much more likely. With a nose like yours, I can’t imagine you getting fewer than four comments a week.”

He frowned, but his eyes still had that playful light in them. “It is a hard lot in life to have such a perfect nose, but it is my lot, and I bear it as well as I know how. Take care and do not fall in love with me because of it, although if you have already resorted to stroking its likeness, I believe it may be too late.”