“Heaven help us. Next thing you know, you’ll want to stand for Parliament.”

“You’d object?”

“They’d be lucky to have you,” he said. I questioned his sincerity, but appreciated that he did not outright balk at the suggestion. “But what would your mother say?”

“More like what will she say,” I said. “To her, the mere act of considering the possibility of getting the vote for women is anathema. I’ll live out the remainder of my days in disgrace. He who submits to fate without complaint is wise.” I swallowed my last drop of tea.

“Epictetus?” Colin asked.

“Euripides,” I said.

“Ah. At any rate, disgrace is a powerful motivator, to be sure. Which interests you more: casting a vote or scandalizing your mother?”

I folded my napkin neatly and placed it on the table. “Isn’t it marvelous when two noble causes can be addressed in one fell swoop?”

Davis stepped into the room. “Mrs. Brandon is here, madam,” he said.

Ivy entered the room in a swish of silk, her skin glowing with the flush of summer heat. “Good morning,” she said as she gave her hand to Colin. “You don’t mind that we’re doing this, do you?”

“Not at all,” he said. “I always believed it was only a question of time before Emily became a suffragette. In fact, I’ve known it longer than she has. I do, however, draw the line at her chaining herself to the gate at Downing Street.”

“He keeps insisting it will come to that,” I said to Ivy. “But I can’t imagine anyone would ever do such a ludicrous thing.”

“It would make a powerful statement,” Colin said. “Don’t, however, take it as a suggestion. Enjoy your meeting.” He kissed me and picked up the Times.