Bessie Bell and the Goblin King by Charlotte E. English

Author:Charlotte E. English
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: witches, regency romance, fairytale, historical fantasy, fae fantasy, fantasy of manners, goblin king
Publisher: Charlotte E. English

Those eyes – and ears – interested Bessie in particular, for it suggested to her that Grunewald was not of full goblin blood. He had an Aylir ancestor, she was certain of it. But had it been his mother, or perhaps a generation further back?

Unaware of her enlightened scrutiny, he examined her attire and finally said: ‘Is your gown—?’

‘Altered? Yes, considerably.’ Bessie kept her face composed, showing nothing of her true thoughts. She wondered why it was that he maintained the façade, and whether she would ever know.

It took Grunewald a moment’s reflection to guess how the change in Bessie’s gown had come about, and then he laughed – rather relieving her mind, because he might with reason have been angered by her cheerful appropriation of his table’s unusual properties. ‘A fine ensemble,’ he complimented her.

‘A warm ensemble,’ she corrected him with a smile. ‘And I thank you for it. My fingers behave as fingers are supposed to, cold as it is.’

‘Functional fingers! I am delighted to hear it. And now, I am away to England.’

Bessie nodded, unsurprised that he made no mention of taking her along. ‘Are you certain you’ll know the imposter, when you see his real face?’

‘Fairly. It must be someone that I know – or someone I should know, if our shared surmise is correct. And if I do not, I will discover it by other, stealthier, means.’ He paused, perhaps expecting Bessie to speak again, but she merely nodded. ‘What?’ he said with a teasing glint. ‘No importunate requests to come along?’

‘Take me along wi’ you,’ said Bessie obediently. She composed her features into a beseeching expression, and even contrived to flutter her lashes just a trifle.

‘No.’

Bessie sighed. ‘Why raise the topic, if yer only goin’ to say no anyway?’

‘It amuses me.’

‘Disappointin’ me is amusin’ to you?’

‘Excessively.’ He grinned at Bessie’s annoyance, his eyes twinkling. ‘Or perhaps it’s the way you smile at me when you are attempting to be winsome.’

Attempting? Bessie scowled at that, and folded her arms. ‘Away wi’ you, before you win yerself a beatin’.’

Grunewald gave a flourishing bow. ‘Drig. See to the lady’s comfort.’ He gave the order without even glancing at his diminutive retainer, and then strode off.

Drig looked critically at Bess, and adjusted his hat – flat, wide-brimmed and berry-red, today. ‘So I am to play nurse,’ he said flatly.

‘No! I am not in need of nursin’. But I have a better idea.’

Drig’s sour look turned into frank suspicion. ‘I am all agog to hear it.’

Bess beckoned him away to her room, though he followed with ill grace. Once the door was safely shut behind them both, she began with, ‘Drig! I may need you to take me into England.’

Drig blinked, and his eyes narrowed. ‘You barely tried to persuade our Gent,’ he said shrewdly. ‘If I didn’t know better, I would say you wanted to be left behind.’

‘His ways and mine must part for a time,’ she said serenely.

‘Then why England?’ Drig squinted at her. ‘You are planning something devious.

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