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

by India Holton

Her countenance was so deadpan it ought to have been given the Last Rites.

“Bloody—” was all Merv had the opportunity to say before Bixby threw the hat at him. It struck his face with more force than brushed felt regularly offered.

“Oh dear, miss,” Alice said with an attempt at comfort that fell so flat a dozen steamrollers could not have crushed it more.

Agency of Undercover Note Takers.

“Well, granted I was raised in an orphanage too, so have little knowledge of families outside of novels, but jolly parents who acknowledge one’s birthday sounds dubious to me.”

“Reading is not a hobby,” she said. “It is a way of life.”

If only she could tumble from a flying house every day, life would be much improved.

since the sober contemplation of art was second only to reading in her esteem, by the time she left the table she was prepared to be happy indeed. Had she instead prepared to be exhausted, confused, and nearly stabbed to death, that might have been more helpful.

Fiddlesticks. She was approaching hooliganism with such speed she might as well just give up and become a politician.

At once, Daniel grasped her, pulling her back against him, wrapping his arms around her waist. It was like being embraced by Michelangelo’s David, only human-size and with no museum security guards involved.

Oh God, another conversation. Was there no end to the misery of this mission?