“Can you imagine the expressions of all those self-important dignitaries and politicians faced in their holy of holies with a sea of irate banner-waving women who won’t be quiet?” Petra asked on a bubble of laughter. “If it wasn’t so deadly serious it would be hilarious . . . oh, there’s a cab.” She stepped into the road, waving a hand at an approaching four-seater hackney.

It was half an hour later that she stepped out of the hackney in Berkeley Square. It had made sense to drop Diana and Fenella off first so it was past eleven o’clock when she put her key in the door. It was opened before she could turn it in the lock.

“What have you been up to, madam wife?” Guy inquired, smiling at her. “I expected to find you ready and waiting for me.”

“I was out with Diana and Fenella,” Petra said lightly, stepping into the hall as Guy closed the door behind her.

“Ah.” He leaned back against the closed door regarding her closely, before leaning forward and taking both ends of her purple-, green- and white-striped scarf and pulling them gently. “WSPU business, I take it.”

“Yes, at Caxton Hall. Christabel Pankhurst was speaking,” Petra responded, keeping her tone light and casual. “It was a lively meeting.” She made to move away from him and for a moment he kept hold of the ends of her scarf, keeping her where she was, before letting her go.

“A warming cognac?” he suggested, moving toward the library.

“Yes, please.” She followed him into the room, letting the door close behind her. “So how was your dinner with his lordship, the bishop?” She curled up in the corner of the sofa.

“Pleasant enough,” Guy responded, handing her a brandy goblet. “He has a notable fondness for claret. His nose blends beautifully with his cassock.”

Petra laughed. “Did he want anything in particular?”

“Oh, Bristol Cathedral needs funds to renovate parts of its roof. He was hoping I would see if I could find a source of government money that could be diverted for that purpose.”

“Did you talk to Joth about it? All things to do with Somerset are in his remit in the Commons.”

“Your brother joined us after dinner. He sends his love, by the way, and wants to come to dinner this weekend.”

“Oh, lovely. I haven’t really seen him properly since we got back.” Petra yawned. “I’ll set something up for Saturday evening.”

“Come, it’s time for bed. You can hardly keep your eyes open.” He took her glass from her, setting it aside before taking her hands and pulling her up from the sofa. “Go on up, I’ll follow you in a few minutes.”

Petra, yawning, left him to turn down the lamps in the library and made her way upstairs. She was sitting on the edge of the bed in her petticoat, peeling off her stockings, when Guy came into the bedchamber.