A Grave Robbery (Veronica Speedwell, #9)

by Deanna Raybourn

“Veronica, who? Who but us would undertake such activities? Do you really imagine London is full of natural scientists repeatedly and relentlessly distracted from their work by felonies and mayhem?”

When one has no intention of giving birth, one cannot be entirely delighted by the carnage of birth, I had found.

“Whatever did I do before you blazed into my life like a comet?”

smoothed my skirts and tossed biscuits to the dogs to keep them quiet. One dog is a delight; five are a nuisance.

“Veronica, do stop waving your arms about like a demented octopus,”

“These Elyots are a delicate family,” I mused. “They faint at the slightest provocation. Do you think it an hereditary flaw?” “I think it is damned inconvenient,”