A young man who'd known little kindness and no love at all, whose heart was as shattered and lost as the delicate cabinet, had his tentative life of crime cut short by a heap of buttons. And a very singular man.

Button was a genius. A national treasure. A jewel in the crown of fashion and style. A dream giver, a wish grantor, the beneficent uncle to any lady doubting her own beauty or worth.

All of that aside, Cabot needed Button to remain safe the way that he needed air to breathe.

Yes, I bloody well insist.

THE NEXT MORNING, GEMMA awoke later than usual. It was not surprising due to her late-night doctoring. She stretched luxuriously and blinked with pleasantly guilty satisfaction at the light streaming through her bedroom window. She was rarely allowed to enjoy the sight, for she customarily rose much earlier.

She sniffed. What was that tantalizing scent? Something savory from the kitchen? Someone was cooking? Someone who wasn't her?

She sat up, tossing all nascent thoughts of laziness aside, for her curiosity would not allow it. She swiftly washed and dressed. She was fortunate to have another gown that buttoned in front. From now on she would own nothing else. After all, she had no maid, nor did she want one. From the perspective of her hard-working life in Yorkshire, she now found it quite astonishing that some women required anyone else to help her dress. Moreover, they sometimes changed clothes up to ten times in one day! An outfit for every activity, even eating breakfast. Goodness, how wasteful!

As she awkwardly set her hair to rights, she reconsidered the perhaps somewhat necessary extravagance of maids. Still, she managed something acceptable by jamming in an inordinate number of pins to keep it in place.

Her belly rumbled, for she had missed breakfast. And if someone else felt like cooking, she certainly felt like eating.

She felt lighthearted this morning. The breeze blew through her half open window, smelling sweetly of green grass and roses. The late morning light struck the cut glass bowl on her bedside table and she smiled at the glorious beauty of the prisms created within the crystal. Peaceful. She felt peaceful.

Even happy.

Well, it had been a very successful bone-setting last night. She was justified in taking pride in that. And a good night's sleep was never to be scorned. Yet her heart danced a little as she trotted lightly down the stairs.

She was a woman, scrambling down the stairs to catch a glimpse of a handsome young man, like a girl with her first crush.