“That is your only worry about me removing my cravat?” His hand hovered dangerously above the intricate knot. “I seemed to notice your eye often drawn to my neck the last time you saw me without one.”

“Lord Bryant, I was hardly myself that night—”

With a flick of his wrist, the cravat was undone and lying flat against his chest. He gave one side a slow, steady pull, and the material slid off his shoulder and into his hand. Diana did not look at his neck. She wouldn’t. Lord Bryant hung his cravat on the coatrack and, before she had a chance to complain further, quickly undid and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

Avoiding his neck meant she was stuck looking at his forearms. This was only his second time visiting her office, and he had managed to half undress. What exactly had she gotten herself into?

“It is nice to feel so comfortable in front of a woman. Usually I would have to remain respectable for fear that the sight of me in such a casual state would make her instantly taken with my physique. I can’t tell you what a comfort it is to know that you are completely immune to my charms.” He lifted one eyebrow slowly and then, as if that weren’t bad enough, the other.

The man was completely ridiculous, no matter how well-formed his arms.

“I am immune.” Her face was slightly warm, and her pulse elevated, but as skilled as Lord Bryant was, even he couldn’t be a mind reader. “So you may stop all this silly nonsense. It isn’t going to work.”

“These types of things usually do work.”

They worked on loads of women, Diana reminded herself. They wouldn’t work on her. She was smarter than that. She set her pen down. At this point, it was useless to pretend to work. But she wouldn’t allow Lord Bryant to think that was because she was fascinated by him. Lord Bryant was supremely confident—it would do him good to show him that not all women fell for his tricks.

“For someone who spends so much time wooing women, I would think you would know better than to mention previous conquests. It hardly makes one feel noteworthy.”

He strode forward, away from the coatrack but closer to her. She could still feel the warmth from his fingers on her chin, but it wouldn’t do to tell him that.

“A mere twenty-two years of experience has made you an expert on the ways of the heart, has it? I am inclined to disagree.”

As if Lord Bryant knew anything about her twenty-two years. She wasn’t a London lady, hoping to catch the most eligible unwed gentleman in town. Lord Bryant may know how to impress almost any woman with a heartbeat and a pair of working eyes, but even he couldn’t be irresistible to every single individual of her sex. There was more to a man than fine arms and a perfect nose.

“I don’t believe your years of philandering have made you any more of an expert.”