The Secret Service of Tea and Treason (Dangerous Damsels #3)

by India Holton

Shifting one to reveal a faded calendar picture of a woman in a bathing costume leaning against a horse-drawn carriage,

“Are you sure about that?” “Of course I am sure,” Alice retorted. “The wife is always right.”

Reaching blindly behind her, she caught hold of a large porcelain lamp and threw it as far as she could across the room. In other words, three feet.

“If you’re trying to daunt me, just know that I currently share quarters with Agent V-2 and have to spend half the night listening to her read out scenes from the Moby Dick retelling she’s working on, written from the perspective of the whale. It starts with, ‘Call me Dick, Moby Dick. I am a sperm whale.’ As a result, not much unnerves me these days.”

She could do with an actual tea break—preferably with wine instead of tea in the cup. In fact, forget the cup. Just hand over the bottle.

And then they continued on with their search for the weapon like exemplary professionals kissed.

A moment of silence followed, in honor of Daniel’s deceased patience.

Her eyes were so opulent they might have inspired any amount of poetry were Daniel’s imagination capable of bending further than “dark brown.”

Daniel could have done with an instruction manual on women just at that moment, along with a cross-referencing bibliography and several diagrams.

not just clothed, insisted his reverent brain, but clothèd—