Steampunk is...the love child of Hot Topic and a BBC costume drama

Lyall had spent centuries nibbling about the great layered cake that was polite society while Lord Akeldama acted the part of the frosting on its top.

Stop playing verbal games with me, madam, or I shall go out into that ballroom, find your mother, and bring her here

They decided the mummy would be unwrapped, for the titillation of the ladies, just after dinner.

The ill-informed masses included her own family among their ranks, a family that specialized in being both inconvenient and asinine.

She poked him in the center of his chest with two fingers to punctuate her words. “You are an unfeeling”—poke —“traitorous”—poke—“mistrusting”—poke—“rude”—poke —“booby!” Every poke turned him mortal, but Lord Maccon didn’t seem to mind it in the least. Instead he grabbed the hand that poked him and brought it to his lips. “You put it very well, my love.

Alexia had spent long hours wondering over that mustache. Werewolves did not grow hair, as they did not age. Where had it come from? Had he always had it? For how many centuries had his poor abused upper lip labored under the burden of such vegetation?