I wasn’t quite sure what to do next. I wondered if the queen would have supplied servants or if Princess Marina was bringing her own and they weren’t here yet. I realized that I should have asked to be taken to Major Beauchamp-Chough, not have gone straight to the apartment. Protocol probably demanded that he escort me to my quarters. But it was a long, wet walk back to the front of the building. There was an archway at the end of the entry hall leading to a passageway beyond. As I looked toward it I saw a woman walk across it. She was moving swiftly, almost gliding and making no sound.

“Hello,” I called. “Wait a minute, please.”

When she didn’t stop I ran after her, and found myself standing in a long dark corridor that was completely empty. Where had she gone? There were no side hallways and she would not have had time to open and close a door. That was when I realized she was wearing a long white dress and her hair had been piled upon her head in little curls. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. At that moment I heard the brisk tap of feet on the marble-tiled floor and a woman came across the foyer toward me. This one was all too solid. She was probably in her thirties, well fed, in a wool dress that was a little too tight for her, pale faced and with pale hair piled in an old-fashioned bun. She spotted me and bore down upon me, wagging a finger.

“Ah, there you are, you naughty girl,” she said in strongly accented English. “Where have you been? I have been waiting for you.”

“I didn’t realize there was a specific time for my arrival,” I said, taking aback by her ferocious approach.

“That is no way to address your betters,” she said, giving me a haughty stare.

“My betters?” Indignation now overtook surprise. “I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are, but I rather think we must be equals, unless you are Queen Victoria reincarnated.”

I saw uncertainty cross her face. “Are you not the girl who was sent to bring me pickled herring from Harrods?”

I tried not to grin. “I am Lady Georgiana, cousin to His Majesty,” I said. “May one ask your name?”

“Oh, thousand pardons,” the woman stammered, thoroughly flustered now. “I did not expect . . . we were not informed that His Majesty’s cousin would be visiting. And I did not expect a royal person to arrive alone in such a manner.” And she looked at my sodden mack and the puddle accumulating around my feet.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I realize I don’t look very royal,” I said. “But it’s raining cats and dogs out there and I don’t have a motorcar.”