Mrs. Oliver suddenly came to life, dropping her pen. “Diana, it truly is a bit dark in there. You should help him.”

Lord Bryant’s eyes sparked. “Thank you, Mrs. Oliver. I’m glad you understand me.”

“I’m happy to help you, Lord Bryant. Miss Barton spends too much time at that desk. She should take breaks now and again.”

“Especially when I come here expressly to see her. It does make courting difficult.”

Diana dropped both her hands onto her desk and rose. She didn’t mind the chance to stand up again. But she almost sat back down when Lord Bryant’s face beamed back at her.

Agreeing to go to the back room with him was a loss. She had allowed him to win a point.

“If Lord Bryant is afraid of a dark room, I suppose I can help him.”

“Thank you.” Lord Bryant wasn’t hurt by her assessment of his bravery. If anything, he seemed pleased by it. “And thank you, Mrs. Oliver, I will enjoy the few moments I have with Diana’s full attention.”

Mrs. Oliver smiled. Her assistant was very proud of herself. Never mind. Diana could spare a few seconds while she showed Lord Bryant to the chair.

“Follow me.” She led Lord Bryant to the storage room on the back wall between her and Mrs. Oliver’s desks. She opened the door, and a shot of light illuminated rows of boxes along with a spare chair and her old desk near the back of the room. “There it is.” Diana pointed with her head.

“All the way at the back?”

“Yes, all the way at the back.” Surely he wasn’t actually afraid of the dark? He was testing her, as always, and as always, she was falling for it. She stepped inside the room with him, and their bodies shadowed most of the light that had come through the doorway, making the room even darker. There wasn’t much room to move about, thanks to the many boxes. She had meant to go through them at some point, but she simply hadn’t had the time.

Lord Bryant strode over to the chair and picked it up easily. Halfway back to her, the door slammed shut behind them, and she was engulfed in darkness.

“Mrs. Oliver?” Diana stepped backward to the door. “Mrs. Oliver, are you out there?”

“Yes, dear.” Mrs. Oliver’s voice was faint. She must be at the opposite side of the room. “I’m headed out to buy more candles. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Diana pushed on the door handle, but the door wouldn’t budge. “Mrs. Oliver, the door is locked,” she called out. But the only answer she got was the sound of the outer door opening and shutting. Her insufferable employee was gone. An unlikely gust of wind inside her office may have caused the door to swing shut, but only the key hanging from Mrs. Oliver’s chatelaine could have locked them inside. Curse Mrs. Oliver and her silly desire to help.