"You are my wife, Prue. I will not tolerate any insult to you. On that score there will be no bargaining."

"Then I demand the right to decide whether or not I have been insulted," she said defiantly.

"Damnation, Prue, are you crying?"

"Yes, I am."

"I warn you, I will not be manipulated with tears," he growled.

"And I will not be manipulated with lovemaking."

Sebastian gave her an ironic look. "Where does that leave us?"

Prudence wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her night rail. "I

have no notion, sir. If you will excuse me, I believe I am going to go back to bed."

He watched her intently. "I shall join you shortly."

"No, you will not. I am going back to my own bedchamber, my lord. I find I cannot sleep well here in your room."

Prudence walked to the connecting door, opened it, and went through to her own room. She shut the door behind her and held her breath.

She was not certain what Sebastian would do next. She half ex­pected him to follow her and give her a lecture on her wifely duties.

But the door to her bedchamber remained closed.

Chapter Twelve

"I rather like the neckline on this gown," Hester mused.

Prudence tried to rally her flagging interest as she obediently con­templated the fashion plate. This shopping trip had been her idea, she reminded herself. She had certainly had the best of intentions when she started out this morning.

But after an enthusiastic beginning at the fabulous shopping ba­zaars which featured everything from clever little toys to delicious ices, she had long since grown bored.

Prudence pushed her spectacles into place and studied the gown closely. "It looks as though one would pop right out of the bodice if one took a deep breath."

"That is the whole point," the unctuous modiste hastily assured her in a false French accent. "A lady's ball gown should give the illusion of being made of nothing but gossamer spider webs spun while the dew is still fresh upon the strands."

"Quite right," Hester declared. "And to be the very glass of fash­ion, the gown should be in a lavender hue."

Prudence eyed the plate dubiously. "Well, if you think it's what I want, Hester, then I shall order it at once."

Hester smiled with satisfaction and turned to the modiste. "We will need it made up immediately. We are prepared to pay extra if you can promise that it will be delivered by eight this evening."

The modiste hesitated and then smiled blandly. "It can be ar­ranged, madam. I shall have all of my seamstresses work on it this afternoon."

"Excellent," Hester said. "Now, then, we shall also want the riding habit, the morning gowns, and the carriage dresses as soon as possible.

Remember, they are all to be done up in violet- and lavender-colored materials. You may use a bit of purple for the trims."

"I understand, madam. You shall have everything within a few days." The modiste turned to Prudence, who was examining a display of buttons. "If her ladyship will step this way, we can take her lady­ship's measurements."

"What's that?" Prudence looked up from the buttons. "Oh, yes, of course."

She allowed herself to be led into the fitting room, where she stood obediently still as a plump woman bustled about with a tape. The modiste supervised with a critical eye.

Prudence smiled at the modiste. "I have heard that it is the fashion to have the buttons of one's riding habits and pelisses engraved with one's family motto or a crest. Is that true?"

"Ladies rarely concern themselves with such." The modiste kept her attention on the seamstress. "It is gentlemen who are more likely to order engraved buttons."

"What sort of things do they have engraved on them?" Prudence inquired with what she hoped sounded like nothing more than mild curiosity.

"A variety of things. Military insignia. Symbols of their regiments, perhaps. Family crests. Some of the members of certain gentlemen's clubs have the names or mottoes of their clubs engraved." The mo­diste looked at her politely. "Did madam wish to order special engrav­ing on her buttons?"

"Not unless it is a requirement of fashion. I was merely curious. Where would one go to order such buttons?"

"There are a number of shops that can supply them." The modiste scowled at the seamstress. "I think you had better measure her lady­ship's bosom again, Nanette. We do not want any mistakes. There will not be time to make adjustments. Madam has a very… ah… slender, refined form. We would not want the bodice to be too large."

"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.