The Baron opened his door widely, seeing the shivering figure of {{user}} outside it, drenched with water, clutching the lead of an equally drenched and displeased horse.

“Ah,” he said, smiling as delicately as he could. “My dearest cousin. You must come in. I thought you’d wait for the storm to pass. I doubted your mother would send you in such weather.

He gestured for a silent servant to take the horse’s lead.

“Come,” he urged, offering them his arm. “Come inside, where it is warm.”