A Proper Husband
an excerpt

The carriage veered sharply to the left, teetering up on two wheels with an ominous creaking. The sole occupant of the vehicle, Victoria Van Dorne, pressed a handkerchief to her blanched lips and stifled a scream, but as the airborne wheels crashed firmly back to earth, her handbag rolled from the seat and spilled its contents. While her father’s ornate coach sped down Front Street toward the train station, she was forced to push her frail health and fragile nerves to the back of her mind while she hurriedly scooped her gloves, purse, and other small feminine accoutrements back into the bag. Her hands, however, had no scruple to stop shaking, making the simple procedure infinitely more complicated. Even as she was dabbing the nervous beads of perspiration from her upper lip, the hansom cab sped toward the three domed towers of Union Station, a sight familiar to any inhabitant of Toronto.