Prisoners in the Palace by Michaela MacColl Page B

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. “I get to go to court and when I return, you’ll have so much to tell me!”
    Under her breath, Liza said, “I hope so.”
    “Victoria, what is keeping you?” An irritated voice came from the carriage.
    “Coming, Mama.” She touched Liza’s hand. “Good luck.”
    “Princess,” Liza whispered, “I don’t have permission to leave the house. If I am caught…”
    “Don’t worry, you won’t be! I must go.” The Princess stepped away and Simon held the step so she could enter the carriage safely.
    Liza had never seen Simon look so handsome. He was dressed in his most formal livery, the forest green with gold piping. His tight breeches set off his muscular thighs and his coat showed off his broad shoulders. He smiled at her before he climbed up to the box seat. Liza gave him a severe look, cursing the blush she could feel creeping up her neck. As the carriage rumbled off toward Windsor Castle, where the King was holding court, Liza hurried to the Duchess’s sitting room.
    “This is the perfect day to go to town,” Liza announced to the empty room. “I’ll be at the chestnut tree at the end of the avenue in a quarter of an hour.” A rustling in the wood box made her smile. Shutting the door behind her, she jumped to see Mrs. Strode standing a few feet away.
    “Miss Hastings, to whom were you speaking?”
    Liza gulped, “No one, Mrs. Strode.”
    The housekeeper looked puzzled, glancing back at the sitting room door, then back at Liza. “I could have sworn I heard you speak—”
    Liza said, “I’m sure I don’t know, ma’am.”
    Mrs. Strode glared at her, but a crash from behind the servants’ door distracted her. Quick to see her opportunity, Liza fetched her own cloak from the below stairs cloakroom and walked through the servant’s entrance as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
    The day was crisp and clear. Liza fastened her wool cloak tightly at her neck, enjoying its cozy warmth even as the chill nipped at her nose. With a spring in her step, she set off down the avenue to the ancient chestnut tree. Inside Boy joined her a few minutes later.
    He was dressed in a coat too big for him, and breeches a shade too small. His shoes were a collection of patched leather all polished black, regardless of their original color. His face was scrubbed pink; Liza didn’t ask where he had found washing water. He grinned and fell into step.
    “You look a treat, Miss,” he said. “Bein’ out and about agrees with you.”
    Liza couldn’t take the smile off her face. Being outside was better than one of Mrs. Strode’s tonics. “Stolen time is doubly precious,” Liza said. “Mrs. Strode doesn’t know I’m out.”
    Inside Boy’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “Yer mission must be perishin’ important.”
    “It is, to the Princess.”
    “And what about Annie?” he asked.
    “I have money for her.” She waved her little reticule full of coins.
    “It’s about time the Princess ‘elped ‘er.” He looked her over and his face crinkled in disapproval. “Yer a dipper’s dream, you are.”
    “What’s a dipper?” she asked cheerfully.
    “A pickpocket. They’ll take your little purse and be ‘alf a mile away before you knows it’s gone. Tuck it