Reynaud looked up, hope making him feel suddenly weak. “Then you’ll help me.”
“Mais oui.” Tante Cristelle scowled. “And did you think otherwise?”
Reynaud helped her stand, feeling the fragile bones of her arm beneath his hand. “No, but it has been a very long time since I’ve had an ally.”
She shook her skirts into order. “We must plan a campaign, I think. I shall seek out these men of law, for I have maintained the estate of le petite Daniel whilst he sojourned in the Colonies and thus have many contacts. And you, you shall shave.”
“Shave?” Reynaud’s eyebrows shot up in amusement.
Tante Cristelle nodded sharply. “But of course, shave, and also you will need the new clothing, the proper wig, and the elegant shoes. For you must regain the aspect of the so-boring English milord, must you not? Thusly we shall confound our enemies with your very placidity.”
Reynaud clenched his jaw. He hated to ask, but he forced himself to. “I have no monies, Tante.”
She nodded, unsurprised. “I will lend you what you need, and when you become the earl again, you shall pay me back, yes?”
“Yes. Of course.” Reynaud bowed over her hand. “I cannot tell you, Tante, how relieved I am that you are on my side.”
“Tcha!” The old woman made a dismissive sound. “You have not lost your charm, I see, underneath that forest upon your face. But mark you this, nephew: a shave and a haircut are only part of what you’ll need to transform yourself into the respectable English gentleman.”
Reynaud frowned. “What else do you think I need? Name it and I’ll buy it.”
er Five
Well, Longsword did not like this turn of events one wit, but a bargain once struck with the Goblin King is very hard to break. Thus he was compelled to work for the Goblin King, and that is a dirty job, indeed; I can tell you! He never saw the sun, he never heard laughter, and he never felt a cool breeze against his cheek, for the Goblin Kingdom, as you may have heard, is a horrible place. But the worst part for Longsword was the knowledge that the master he served and the things he did were an affront to God and Heaven itself.
Because of this, every year Longsword would go to his master, lower himself to one knee, and beg to be relieved of his horrible servitude.
And every year the Goblin King refused to let Longsword go….
—from Longsword
“Ridiculous that I can’t touch any of the Blanchard monies,” Reynaud growled a day later. He paced the little sitting room from fireplace to window, feeling like a wild wolf caged. “How am I to pay my lawyers without funds?”
“You can hardly blame Uncle Reggie for being reluctant to pay for his own ouster,” Miss Corning said. She sat serenely by the small fire, sipping some of her infernal tea.
“Ha! If he thinks that’ll stop me, he’ll be sorely disappointed,” Reynaud retorted. “I have a petition before parliament to form a special committee to look into my case.”
Miss Corning set her teacup down carefully. “Already? I had no idea.”
Reynaud snorted. “If it were tomorrow, it’d not be soon enough for me. Once I prove my identity, they cannot keep the title from me.”
Miss Corning frowned, fiddling with her teacup.
Reynaud’s brows snapped together. “You don’t believe me?”
“It’s just… What if . . .” She shook her head slowly.
“What if what?”
“What if he says that you are mad?” she asked all in a rush, and looked up at him.
Reynaud stared. Insanity was one of the few reasons a man might be passed over for a title. “Do you have information that he will?”
“It was just something he said in passing.” She ducked her head, hiding her gray eyes from him.
Reynaud scowled, wondering what her uncle had actually said. He felt cold sweat start at the small of his back. You’ll never be a proper Englishman again, the goblins in his mind chittered. You’ll never belong. Reynaud balled his hands, fighting the voices.
“Do you feel well?” Miss Corning asked.