A Grave Robbery (Veronica Speedwell, #9)

by Deanna Raybourn

Peril was not our business, but it was most definitely our vocation.

Stoker had held forth with considerable passion on the inherent dignity of the dead and our responsibility as the living to respect it.

I was merely reflecting on how felicitous it is to be understood and loved for oneself—really loved, with no design to alter or diminish the object of one’s affection. It is a rare thing.” “To change one hair of your head would make you something other than Veronica,” he said simply.

She took in a deep breath and pulled herself up to her full height. “But my love is best reserved for myself, I think. That will serve me better.”