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352 pages, Hardcover
First published January 10, 2017
"You are worth a thousand of them Veronica."
“Have I shocked you? Remember I was born in a different time, Miss Speedwell. Virginity is Queen Victoria’s legacy. The rest of us are not quite so blinkered,” she told me. “Take my advice and get rid of yours as fast as you can.”
I briefly toyed with the notion of telling her I had discarded mine on a hillside in Switzerland during a very pleasant interlude some seven years past.
“And if you’ve any sense, you will hand it to him,” she added with a meaningful glance down the table towards Stoker, who was shouting remarks into Mr. Baring-Ponsonby’s ear trumpet.
Just at that moment, Stoker turned, his gaze curious. “What are you two talking about? You look quite flushed.”
“We were discussing horseflesh,” Lady Wellingtonia said. “And how difficult it can be to find a good mount.”
His response was sweetly naïve. “If you need a recommendation, I know a fellow or two.”
“There is no sociology here,” Stoker corrected, his voice still tight. “These are not phalluses— at least not the sort meant for study.”
I blinked at him. “Whatever do you mean?”
He was blushing furiously. “They are . . . Oh God, I can’t even say the word.”
“What word?”
“Dil— No, I can’t. I can tell you in Greek. These are olisboi. Or if you prefer, in Spanish, consoladores.”
“Consolers? But how could they console . . . oh. Oh!” I peered at the collection in renewed interest. “So they are not for study or ceremonial use but for practical application. How very intriguing.”
The young man looked to me, and it seemed an appeal. I stepped forward to pour oil upon the troubled waters. “Pay no mind to Stoker. He is in a frightful temper, but I am afraid that is often his mood, so there is little point in waiting for a better one. Won’t you come in?”
He shook his head. "You are mad. And I am madder still for letting you talk me into this."
I gave him a wry smile. "We will be like Arcadia Brown and her faithful sidekick, Garvin," I said, invoking our favorite literary detective. Stoker claimed not to enjoy popular fiction, but ever since I had introduced him to the lady investigator's adventures, he had devoured them while still pretending to be above such diversions.
He narrowed his gaze. "If you are expecting me to brandish a pistol and go haring off with you, crying 'Excelsior!,' you will be waiting until the crack of doom," he warned. "I am only doing this because I know there is no point in attempting to talk you out of it, and you will need someone to watch your back with a murderer on the loose."
I grinned at him and lifted my glass in salute. "It begins."
“Whatever this thing is that makes us different, this thing that makes quicksilver of us when the rest of the world is mud, it binds us. To break that would be to fly in the face of nature.”
there were times I felt she was bordering on caricature and her unconventionality began to seem like artifice. I got that she was an unusual young woman quite early on and didn’t need to be reminded of it quite so often