She reached for the doorknob, but his hand came from behind her and covered her own. A shock ran up her arm at his touch, and she hastily pulled her hand away.

Had he felt that?

She snuck a glance at him through lowered lashes. His face was unreadable. Of course he hadn’t. This was a man who had multiple scandals a year. An accidental touch of the hand wouldn’t make his nerves catch fire.

He was standing directly behind her, his arm extended above her shoulder. Her back was nearly pressed into him. He leaned forward and placed his mouth next to her ear. “Next time you feel the need to show your love through pet names, don’t.”

Diana frowned. What was she to do then? “You expect me to call you Lord Bryant in front of Mr. Broadcreek?” Her voice sounded small. She still hadn’t recovered from the touch of his hand, and his nearness wasn’t helping matters.

“If you were in love with me, I would think you would call me Everton.”

Of course she would.

Lord Bryant tugged on the knob and opened the door. She ducked out of the room and found Mrs. Oliver and Mr. Broadcreek waiting with a maid by the front door. She turned back and almost bumped into Lord Bryant. Flushing, she raised her eyes to his steely green ones. “Once again, I’m sorry to have disturbed your evening.”

“It is always a pleasure to see you, Diana. It’s only unfortunate I cannot steal you away for a dance.”

Now that Mr. Broadcreek was behind her, he was back to his charming ways. If she hadn’t known better, she would have taken one look at his openly appreciative eyes and thought he was being sincere.

Everton stood in the drawing room doorway. Diana Barton reached for Mrs. Oliver’s hand and, without casting a second glance at Mr. Broadcreek, made her way to the door. The servant who had led him here waited to let them outside. Mr. Broadcreek turned his head to glare at Everton, eyes narrowed, before following the two women.

He needed to head back into the ballroom. It was nearly time for supper. Lady Emily would have to sit by Lord Silverstone, and he should be there in case she ran into any trouble.

He couldn’t force himself back into that room, though. Not yet. He needed a moment to regroup. He glanced down at his fingers and rubbed them together. What exactly had that been? He wasn’t some young buck in his first Season, blushing at the chance to brush fingers with a beautiful young woman. He had kissed Miss Barton. He had kissed many women, to be precise. He had been married for Pete’s sake.

He shook his head. He needed to get more sleep. That could be the only explanation. Even if he had been a man young enough to tempt that firebrand, he wouldn’t have wanted to. A man should be comfortable around his wife.