Liza arrived at the covered porch, panting, carrying the Princess’s warmest cloak. Sir John handed the Duchess into her waiting carriage. The Princess’s face glowed with the excitement of having somewhere to go. As was her habit, the Baroness was scowling. “Liza, you’ve kept us waiting.” Liza barely noticed the Baroness’s tone, so accustomed had she become to her surly ways. “I beg your pardon, Baroness,” she said as she held the cloak up for Victoria. The Princess glanced at the carriage; her mother was paying her no attention. “We would have had to wait anyway. Sir John’s business delayed us.” “Sir John is a man much occupied with other people’s business, Princess,” Liza murmured, laying the Princess’s crimson wool cloak on her shoulders and fastening the black velvet ties in a becoming bow under the Princess’s chin. The Baroness inspected the result. Satisfied, she followed the Duchess into the carriage. “This is going to be such an amusing day,” Victoria whispered.
