“Would I be here if I weren’t?”They were sitting in a hansom cab at the foot of the long gravel driveway that curled, snakelike, across the grounds of the Grayling Institute. Veronica peered out between the window drapes. The glass was filthy with spattered grime, but she had a reasonable view of the building. She’d never seen it before, and it was completely at odds with what she’d imagined. It was a large country mansion, a former Royal residence, built in the dying days of the seventeenth century and now given over to science, converted into the laboratories and workshops of Dr. Lucien Fabian.The house was grand and imposing, but also had an old-world charm, like somewhere she remembered visiting when she was a child. It had been a bright summer’s day, and she had played on the lawn with Amelia while her parents drank pungent tea in the orangery with their hosts. Amelia had been stung by an insect, and Veronica held her hand while their mother, a cross expression on her face, pulled the stinger from her arm.Veronica blinked away the unbidden memory.
