She handed the cards back to Guy, who stood waiting behind her chair. “What will you do if my presence this morning becomes known?” Her voice was more tentative than she’d hoped it would sound.

“Oh, believe me, my dear Petra, it’s all over town by now,” he said with the same lack of expression. “There are newspapermen lurking outside with cameras already.”

“We could throw a bucket of water over them from the upstairs landing,” Petra suggested, realizing too late how totally inappropriate an attempt at humor was in present circumstances.

Guy looked at her in disbelief. “Are you utterly witless? Have you no idea what this means?”

“Yes . . . yes, of course I do. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t joke about it. I’ll keep away from the street and any cameras until this all blows over.” She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry this makes things awkward for you, Guy, but I’m not giving up the Union.”

“You are my wife and I can do little to change that,” he said coldly. “But don’t expect any support or acknowledgment from me, public or otherwise. That’s all I have to say at the moment.” He slipped the signed cards into his coat pocket and left the parlor.

Petra swallowed a knot of tears. Did he mean that he would change the fact of their marriage if he could? It seemed to be what he’d meant. Was that his last word? There was to be no resolution, just this yawning gap between them? Somehow she had to go on as normal, maintaining her public position as Lady Ashton while pursuing her private political passions at the same time without her husband’s even tacit support. She didn’t see how she could do that and have a marriage in anything but name.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

“How are things now with Guy, Petra?” Jonathan asked his sister as they settled into a first-class carriage in the train to Bristol a week later.

“Chilly,” she responded, taking a corner seat.

“I don’t suppose he enjoyed seeing his wife’s picture splashed across the front page of the Times.” He put his attaché case onto the overhead shelf. “That was sheer bad luck, considering that Diana and Fenella managed to stay incognito.”

“And it wouldn’t have mattered with them, anyway,” Petra said bitterly. “Their husbands support the Union and wouldn’t be seriously put out.”

“They’re also not members of Parliament,” Jonathan pointed out, taking the corner seat opposite his sister. “You must admit their situation is rather different.”