How would it end? She still had not said a word to Diana or Fenella about her plan, but now wondered if it would ease her nervousness to share it. What if it was truly harebrained and would cause more harm than good? Was she certain her husband’s sense of humor was strong enough to see the funny side? What if she was about to make a colossal mistake?

Guy had seemed preoccupied since their intimate evening two days earlier, but he hadn’t seemed out of sorts particularly. It was just that she thought occasionally she had caught him regarding her rather speculatively, an almost calculating look in his eyes. It was disconcerting because if she asked him about it he merely laughed and offered some vague explanation that had nothing to do with her.

She spent the morning on tenterhooks, not even the company of her friends helped. “You’ve hardly eaten any lunch, Petra,” Diana pointed out as a waiter removed Petra’s barely touched plate of duck confit. “That dish is one of your favorites.”

“Yes, is something the matter?” Fenella asked, leaning over the table with an air of concern.

“No, nothing at all,” Petra denied. “Everything is perfect, I promise. I suppose,” she added, “I might be a bit preoccupied about arrangements for the march.”

“Everything is nearly in place,” Diana said, taking a spoon to her chocolate mousse. “We’re just waiting to hear from the Manchester folk as to how many to expect from there. Emmeline is in charge of that contingent.”

“I like her idea of putting the word out to the world in general with the wrong date,” Petra commented. “That should at least prevent any attempt to stop the march before we get to Westminster.”

“You can always trust Emmeline to be devious,” Diana said on a note of admiration. “We’ll catch them completely unprepared.”

“And there’ll be several hundred at the least,” Fenella put in. “If we can make five hundred it will really cause a stir.”

“Oh, I think we’ll cause a stir however many women storm St. Stephen’s Hall,” Petra declared. “We’ll probably all be arrested.”

“Probably,” Diana agreed. “Rupert and Edward will stand bail for us all, including you, Petra, just in case . . .” The sentence trailed off.

Petra grimaced but said confidently, “Guy will stand up for me. He’ll hate to do it, but he will. What happens afterward is anyone’s guess.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s nearly three o’clock. How could the time go so fast? I have to go, I’m meeting someone at home at half past.” She gathered up her things, kissed her friends, and hurried out of the restaurant, hailing a cab at the door.

Rachel Young arrived promptly and was shown upstairs to Petra’s dressing room. She laid the parcel she was carrying on an ottoman.