Mrs Hart placed her cutlery down and wiped her lips on her napkin. ‘The WSPU are not revolutionaries. They are socialists.’

‘Listen to how my sister emphasises the word “they,” in favour of the word “we,”’ Sir Charles said. ‘I find that the truth is invariably to be found in what we do not say rather than what we do.’

‘Once again, Charles,’ Mrs Hart said, colour rising like wine stains in her cheeks, ‘you make sport from misunderstanding me. Imagining that you know my thoughts better than I myself know them.’

‘Come, Leonora,’ Sir Charles said, his tone now conciliatory. ‘You know I mean no harm. You know I consider you to be the most intelligent woman of my acquaintance. If I’ve offended you, then I am truly sorry. Bainbridge, please fill Mrs Hart’s glass, and we will say no more on the subject.’

Bainbridge stepped forward, and Mrs Hart nodded her thanks as the decanter chinked on the edge of her glass. It seemed, for a moment at least, that the ripple, which had disturbed the millpond of the meal, was at an end.

‘I wouldn’t give houseroom to a single one of those blasted women,’ George seethed. ‘If I found one in my household, I’d knock those ideas out of her head.’

Before Lou could react, a voice that had stayed quiet spoke up. ‘I admire anybody who has the courage of their convictions,’ Tom said, his voice low and tight. ‘I’d rather a lion that roared, than a mouse that stayed silent.’

‘You would. Spineless idiot.’ George spoke these venomous words so quietly that Lou was sure nobody but she had heard. Perhaps he wasn’t such a fool after all.

‘I do hope you manage to shoot a brace of pheasant tomorrow,’ Lady Mandeville chimed. ‘I’ve asked chef to prepare liver pâté for the ball.’

Everyone seized on the change in subject, throwing themselves into plans for the next day’s shoot. Lou was too busy basking in George’s fury to be irked by Lady Mandeville’s insistence on once again turning conversation away from the important and expansive issue of women’s politics to the narrow confines of the domestic. Beside Lou, George’s rage boiled like a kettle about to explode. She had tested his temper and found that it lay only a hairsbreadth beneath the surface. Knowing an enemy’s weak spot was key to knowing how to deal with them. George wanted to control every situation so he could manipulate it to satisfy his own ends. He wouldn’t be happy if he knew she had heard his exchange that morning with Tom.

The glow of Lou’s success came to an abrupt end when conversation turned to clothes and dancing, with the arrangements for the ball taking on the proportions of a biblical saga. None of it matters, Lou wanted to shout. Your parties are all coming to an end. But how were they to know that Kaiser Wilhelm was unwittingly in league with George Caxton and that together, they would rip the heart from this family?