What Time the Sexton's Spade Doth Rust (Flavia de Luce, #11)

by Alan Bradley

I faked a sudden sneeze, pulled out my handkerchief, and wiped away the evidence. “Oh, pardon me,” I said. “The sun just came out from behind a cloud.” And it had. “My trigeminal nerve overloaded. It’s not just me: It happens with horses, too.”