"Could you give me a list?" Prudence asked as Nanette tightened the tape around her breasts.

The modiste glanced at her again. "A list of what, madam?"

"A list of shops that deal in specially engraved buttons. It occurs to me that if there is not already a fashion for such items among ladies, I might start one."

"But of course. Very clever of madam to think of that." It was clear the modiste was merely humoring her patron. "I shall make a note of some of the better shops that specialize in trims and buttons and the like before you leave."

"Thank you," Prudence murmured. For the first time in several hours her interest in shopping returned. "I would appreciate that."

Twenty minutes later Prudence and Hester were handed back up into the Angelstone carriage by a footman dressed in the black and gold Angelstone livery.

"I must say, my dear," Hester remarked as she seated herself, "I am extremely pleased to see that you are finally taking an interest in fashion. Now that you are a countess, you must give more attention to such matters. It is expected of you. Drucilla Fleetwood and the rest of Angelstone's clan will be watching you quite closely."

"Hoping, no doubt, that I will humiliate myself by doing something totally unsuitable, such as wearing a riding habit and a pair of half boots to a ball."

Hester gave her a searching glance. "Is that the reason behind your newfound interest in gowns and furbelows? Are you afraid of offending the Fleetwoods?"

"Let's just say I'd rather Angelstone's aunt did not issue any more insults to me in public," Prudence said dryly. "The Fleetwoods have already decided I am not going to make a very suitable countess. I would just as soon not give them any ammunition to support their assumptions."

"Well, well, well." Hester chuckled. "No offense, my dear, but I am rather amazed to learn that you are so concerned with pleasing Angelstone's relatives. He certainly has never worried about pleasing them."

"Perhaps becoming a countess has given me a more informed view of the social world," Prudence muttered. She gazed out at the busy streets and wondered if her efforts to turn herself into a fashion plate would be of any use.

She did not dare explain to Hester the real reason she was going through the trouble of redoing her wardrobe. The sole goal of the task was to save the hapless Fleetwoods from Sebastian's vengeance.

The best approach to the problem, she had decided, was to take a preventive course of action. She had wakened this morning deter­mined not to provide her new relatives with grounds for any grave insults.

It had been obvious to Prudence that the first step she needed to take was to become more fashionable.

The note she had sent to Hester late in the morning inviting her on the shopping expedition had brought an immediate response. Hester had been delighted at being given a free hand and a virtually unlim­ited budget.

Thus far she had seen to it that Prudence replaced her spectacles, at least for evening wear, with a fashionable little glass that hung from a purple velvet ribbon. It could be attached to any of her gowns. Prudence had complained that it was awkward to have to raise the glass to her eyes whenever she wished to see clearly, but Hester had ruthlessly brushed aside that petty complaint.

They had purchased dancing slippers in every shade of lavender and violet, and several pairs of matching gloves. Parcels containing a variety of hats and fans were piled high on the roof of the carriage.

"All in all, this has been an extremely successful day," Hester said with great satisfaction. "Shall we stop for an ice?"

Prudence perked up at that. "Yes, I should enjoy that. And after­ward, I would like to visit one or two shops on this list that the mo­diste gave me."

Hester glanced at the piece of paper in Prudence's hand. "What sort of shopping do you intend to do?"

"I am interested in inquiring about having some buttons especially engraved."

Hester was delighted. "That would certainly make an interesting touch for your riding habits and perhaps your pelisses. What a clever notion."

"I thought so," Prudence said, feeling a trifle smug. "I am looking for someone who does this sort of work. Very fine quality, don't you think?" She reached into her reticule and pulled out the gold button she and Sebastian had found at Curling Castle.

"That looks like the sort of button that would suit a gentleman's waistcoat," Hester said. "What on earth is that engraved on it?"

"I have no idea. The name of a gentleman's club, perhaps. Or it might have some significance to an Evangelical." Prudence casually dropped the button back into her reticule.

"Where did you get it?"

"I found it lying about somewhere," Prudence said easily. "I can­not recall precisely. But I noticed the workmanship and decided I

should like to find the merchant who supplied it to the original owner. If I do, I shall put in a special order for myself."

"I imagine any number of merchants can supply you with engraved buttons. Why bother to search for the one who did that particular button?" Hester asked curiously.

"Because I wish to be assured of getting this quality of workman­ship," Prudence explained smoothly. "Angelstone prefers that his wife wear only the best."

"Very well, my dear. If you wish to spend the rest of the day shopping for buttons, who am I to stop you?"

Shortly after two o'clock Sebastian walked out of the establish­ment of Milway and Gordon, a Bond Street shop that specialized in gentleman's gloves, cravats, and other assorted accoutrements re­quired by men of fashion. He paused to consult the list of merchants his valet had drawn up for him.

Thus far he had visited four shops which claimed to take orders for specially engraved buttons. No one had recognized the button he de­scribed to them.

"Gold, with the phrase The Princes of Virtue engraved on it," he had explained to the shopkeepers. "Suitable for a waistcoat. I should like to duplicate it for a waistcoat of my own."

"Perhaps if his lordship had brought along the button he is at­tempting to duplicate I could say for certain whether or not I have seen its like previously," one shopkeeper suggested. "I am quite posi­tive we could reproduce it. But it would be helpful to see the original button."

Unfortunately a verbal description was all Sebastian could offer the merchants because Prudence had made off with the original but­ton. He'd had one brief glimpse of it gleaming between her gloved fingers before she dropped it into her reticule.

"My turn to investigate, my lord," she had murmured for his ears alone. "This marriage is a partnership, if you will recall, and so is this investigation. I would feel guilty if I did not endeavor to perform my share of the labor."

"Damnation," Sebastian growled. "You know very well that I am going to visit certain shops today. It will not do for both of us to inquire about the same confounded button at the same damn shop."

"You are quite right, my lord." Prudence's eyes flashed with deter­mination. "We must be clever about this, mustn't we? I have it. I shall make my inquiries in the neighborhood of Oxford Street. You may make your inquiries elsewhere. That way we will not be likely to stum­ble across each other at the same establishment."

"Bloody hell, Prue, I will not allow you—"

"Forgive me, my lord. I must be off. My aunt will be waiting for me."

Aware that the presence of the servants in the hall severely limited Sebastian's reaction, Prudence had sailed on past him through the open door to the waiting carriage.

Sebastian had been sorely tempted to go after her and haul her out of the carriage right in front of the servants. It would serve her right. She knew full well he had intended to conduct his own investigation on the button that day.

But something held him back and he knew it wasn't simply the possibility of creating a small domestic scene in front of the household staff. It was something much more fundamental.

He did not wish to rekindle the emotions that had blazed in her last night. Sebastian admitted to himself that he was not certain how to handle Prudence when she was in tears. He had been stunned when she had walked back to her own bedchamber and closed the door in his face.

Sebastian frowned as he refolded the list of merchants. Prudence had overreacted last night, he thought as he started toward his phae­ton. That was the problem. There had been no logic to her emotion.

It was not as if he had married her for the sole purpose of using her as bait to lure the Fleetwoods to their doom.

He was merely going to capitalize on the circumstances of the marriage to achieve a goal that had long been denied him. Where was the harm in that? he wondered. Prudence's overly emotional reaction had taken him by surprise. It was not like her.

Sebastian now came to a halt on the sidewalk as a thought struck him. He had heard that women were subject to strange emotions when they were breeding. Prudence might very well be pregnant. Preg­nant with his babe.

He started to smile in spite of his foul mood. He could see her now, round and ripe with his seed growing inside her. A strange sensa­tion of tenderness swept through him.

He had told himself that once he had bound Prudence to him with the legal ties of marriage and the physical claims of passion, she would be his. He had been right in some ways. But last night he had realized for the first time that the bonds of marriage and passion and even mutual interests might not be enough.