Yasmin’s heart sank. Lord Wade was one of her admirers but not the kind she liked. He had an invidious habit of allowing his hand to brush over her hips or worse, her rear. Now his eyes skated over her bosom as he bowed. “I hadn’t seen you standing there, Lady Yasmin.” His greedy eyes reminded her of a turkey-cock scraping the ground for worms.

“We need a boutonnière!” Miss Yates told Lulu, ignoring Yasmin altogether.

“I’m very sorry, but that was my very last button-ear,” Lulu reported. “The Dowager Duchess of Huntington and I had an agreement that I should sell ten and not a single one over that.”

“Oh, please!” Miss Yates begged, clasping her hands together.

His Lordship pulled out a silver coin, but Lulu shook her head.

“This is twice the amount,” Lord Wade pointed out. To Yasmin’s disgust, he edged sideways so that his hip touched hers.

Yasmin pulled away so sharply that she bumped into Giles, who looked down at her in surprise.

“I could give Lord Wade my boutonnière,” Giles offered.

Yasmin shook her head. “No need.” She turned to Lulu. “Mr. and Mrs. Addison didn’t join the scavenger hunt.”

“Imagine!” the flower seller cried. “I might have one last button-ear!” She started digging under the jumble of flowers.

“I thought you would,” Lord Wade said pompously. “A shilling is a powerful incentive.”

“I won’t take more than sixpence,” Lulu said. “Me and Her Grace have an agreement.”

“Best of luck to you,” Yasmin said, taking Giles’s arm.

Miss Yates sniffed loudly and deliberately turned away. “Lord Wade, allow me to pin on your boutonnière.”

They were halfway back to St. Martin’s Lane, where they could pick up a hackney, when Giles said abruptly, “That young lady was extraordinarily rude to you, not unlike the butler. Why do you allow it?”

Yasmin had been strolling along happily enough, but she flinched at that question.

“You stopped smiling,” Giles observed. And then, “Why were you smiling?”

She waved a hand. “Because the market is so fascinating! Look at that man. He’s selling piglets. Aren’t they adorable?”

They walked over and surveyed four pink piglets.

“This one looks as if he’s laughing at us,” Yasmin said, scratching it between the ears.

Giles started to say something and thought better of it.

“Don’t you dare say something about roast pork,” Yasmin told him. “He might hear you. Oh, look. Miss Whisker is here today! She sells buttons, gorgeous buttons. I always find a beautiful button or two.”

Or ten, but she didn’t admit that. Giles already thought she was frivolous.

“I had no idea that people sold buttons,” he observed as they threaded through the crowd to the button seller.

“Miss Whisker, this is the Earl of Lilford. I’m shocked to reveal it, but he has never bought a button.”

Miss Whisker’s smile was missing a few teeth, but it had great charm. “A few of my buttons have gone to the London Museum, me lord. My best are in this box. A shilling each.”