An Unexpected Peril (Veronica Speedwell, #6)

by Deanna Raybourn

“Stoker, as you well know, murders happen,” I told him. “But why must they happen to us?”

The baroness gave me a thin smile. “We have a saying in the Alpenwald, Fraulein. Plans are jokes written by men for God’s amusement.” “That is hardly reassuring,” I told her. “It sounds better in German.”

He grumbled something entirely unprintable in a polite memoir and I hurried off, drawing in great lungfuls of cold, crisp London air.

Her thigh would wobble. You must find such a woman, Archie. And when she undresses for you, watch her thigh. Worship it,” he instructed. “And when you return, you will know how a custard should move. It should look like the round and silken thigh of a woman.”

“You look like something the cat sicked up,” she told me cheerfully. “What an enchanting person you are,” I replied. She grinned, unrepentant.

“There is no call to be in a temper,” I said. “Just because we have been abducted. Again.”