“Do you really want to know?” Her voice was closer; she must be leaning in toward him. He adjusted his gaze.

“Yes, I do.”

A delicate hand landed on his arm and gently pulled him closer to her. This time when she spoke, her voice was in his ear. Everton held his breath. They were playing a very dangerous game.

“For a gentleman . . .” she began, then stopped. He leaned in closer to her, which perhaps wasn’t the best idea of his life. She inhaled, then sighed. “It just seems that for a gentleman, you have a rather unhealthy fascination with your nose.”

Before he could stop himself, a laugh like a cough escaped his mouth. A sudden urge to grab Miss Barton by the waist and pull her to him overtook him. She was so proud and not a bit scared of him, not even locked in the dark with him. Didn’t she know who he was?

He was the most notorious rake London had ever seen.

And a deplorable charlatan.

He held his hands stiff to his sides, determined not to take advantage of a beautiful woman in a locked room.

Diana didn’t seem to recognize the danger she was in. Instead, she clapped her hands and spun around. “I win a point.”

He rolled back on his heels, adjusting to the space now between them. “How is that a point?”

“Oh, don’t act as if you didn’t know.”

Everton thought he knew, and he thought he had just garnished a point by keeping his hands to himself. “Please enlighten me.”

“I just made you laugh. One point for me.”

“Ah ha, and how do I earn points?”

He could just make out her head cocking to one side in the dark. “Hmm, I don’t think you do.”

That sounded right. He seemed to play a lot of games he couldn’t win. “I’m not certain I like this game.”

“Oh, you like it. I don’t know you very well yet, but I can tell you like it.”

In the few instances he had had the pleasure of being near Miss Barton, she had always gotten her way, and she was always right.

This was no exception. For a game where he would be awarded no points, he liked it more than he should. “I suppose since you received a point, you would like the chair,” Everton said.

“Yes, I would.”

Her footsteps sounded in the darkness and then stopped.

“Did you find it?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“But you are still standing.”

“I’m tired of sitting. It is all I do all day. I would rather stand.”

Everton laughed. Diana Barton was going to be the death of him.

“Another point for me,” she said.

“I think, perhaps, any points gained in this room should belong to Mrs. Oliver.” If he introduced Mrs. Oliver to Mrs. Cuthbert, his social calendar would explode, although Mrs. Oliver would fill it exclusively with Miss Barton. Not that he would mind. Standing in the dark with Diana Barton was much more exciting than watching brandy. “Where has that woman been all my life?”