An Unexpected Peril (Veronica Speedwell, #6)

by Deanna Raybourn

Between sleuthing out murderers, cataloging the Rosemorran Collection, and allowing ourselves to experience the rumbustious pleasures of the flesh, we had had little time to spare for hobbies.

“Bloody bollocking hell,”

There was something watchful about the place, a sense of breath being held, waiting.

I ought to have remembered, with countries—like men—the more diminutive the stature, the more overweening the pride.

“Their motives are so oblique. I find these people vastly annoying.”

Beyond that, there was every possibility that he would object strenuously to being stabbed. Men, as it happens, were often not enthused about such a development, I had observed.