“And it didn’t take all morning either,” Fenella added with similar satisfaction. “What shall we do until lunchtime?”

“St. James’s Park,” Petra said promptly. “It’s such a gorgeous day.”

After giving the milliner directions as to where to deliver the three hatboxes, the women went out onto the Strand and started walking toward the park. The thoroughfare was busy with carriages, the pavements crowded with pedestrians and it was hard to keep up a conversation as they tried to stay abreast of one another. At one point a knot of people emerged from an alley and converged on the path in front of Petra separating her from her friends, bringing her almost to a standstill. She moved to the edge of the pavement to slide past them, stepping for a moment into the street just as a barouche swept up at a brisk pace. She jumped hastily back onto the pavement, glaring at the coachman, who was belatedly attempting to slow his horses.

Clothilde Delmont stared at her from the cushioned seat behind the coachman. Petra saw recognition flash in the other woman’s blue eyes, replaced with something most unpleasant. Malice, she thought. It was malice, with a good helping of disdain. Unconsciously, Petra put up her chin and met the other woman’s stare with her own, then she forced herself to feign a smile with a nod of courteous recognition, and hurriedly stepped up to join her friends.

“Wasn’t that—?” Fenella began.

“Clothilde Delmont, yes,” Petra said. “She’s so incredibly elegant. No one has the right to have a neck that long.”

“And that hat . . .” Diana shook her head. “It was like a tricorne, so unusual.”

“I thought she looked most disagreeable,” Fenella declared. “As if she’d just tasted sour milk in her coffee.”

Petra laughed, trying to dispel the unease that fleeting encounter had engendered. “She didn’t look very content, I must say. But we sound like a trio of gossiping cats.”

“I imagine she’ll be at Ascot,” Diana said. “It’s Ladies Day, everyone will be there.”

Petra managed a casual shrug. “Even if she is, there’s no reason why we should run into her. There are other enclosures, other pavilions.”

“But only one Royal Enclosure,” Fenella pointed out. “And somehow I don’t see the vicomtesse gracing any other.”

“Will it be awkward for you, Petra? Guy will have to acknowledge her,” Diana asked directly.

“Of course he will, if he bumps into her,” Petra replied. “And it won’t be awkward in the least.”

“Good,” Diana said, sounding a little doubtful. “Anyway, maybe horse racing isn’t her cup of tea.”