Category: Jude Knight Page 1 of 17

Music is Magic

On October 23, 2026

(Image was AI generated by Canva’s Magic Media app)

“Well?” said Lady Bright. “What did you find out?”

Her apprentice curtsied. “It was as we have heard, madam.”

Lady Bright raised her eyebrows, and Amberlina flushed and blinked. She began again, first straightening her back, folding her arms in front of her at her waist, and taking a deep breath.
“My lady,” she began. “On your instructions, I attended a gathering at which Mr. and Mrs. Ddraennan had been engaged to play. Their performance was magical, and I mean that in every sense. I could see the mage power cascading off their voices and off the sound of Mr. Ddraennan’s lap harp.”

“And is it true?” asked Lady Bright. “Are they a mage pair?”

“It is true, madam,” Amberlina replied. “They can charm the birds from the air, I swear it. Their music is the stuff of the old legends.”

“They were using it to enchant, then,” Lady Bright said.

It was a statement and not a question, but Amberlina answered anyway. “The music was a form of enchantment, my lady. It caught us up in its spell, and we could do nothing but listen. But they did not use it—well, at least last night when I watched, they did not use it to take any kind of improper action. It was merely, if you will, enchantment for entertainment.”

“Enchantment for entertainment.” Lady Bright was far too polite to snort, but Amberlina fancied that was the intent of her expression. “We have it on good authority that Mr. Draennan, at least, was a member of the Welsh resistance group, the Red Dragon. And his wife has sympathies.”

“Is his wife not a cousin of the dragon lord, my lady?”
“Yes, which is precisely why we cannot be confident in his belief that they can be trusted.”

“You think they will use their music to bring about revolution or French invasion or Welsh freedom?” asked Amberlina.

“I think we cannot be certain that they will not,” Lady Bright said. “However, I agree that the evidence so far appears to support the dragon lord.”

Lady Bright’s apprentices talked among themselves, and Amberlina knew she was only the latest to have been sent out to find out what the two bards were doing as they roamed through England in their caravan. All of the others had had the same experience as Amberlina: a pleasant afternoon or evening, listening to bards who could cause a song to come alive in every one of a listener’s senses, while not in any way being influenced to think one thing or another, to support one cause or another.

Lady Bright took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “They seem to be innocent, Amberlina. That is what you’re thinking, is it not?”

“Yes, my lady.” There was no point in saying otherwise. Lady Bright would know if she lied or even gently shaded the truth.

“You may be right.”

The senior mage’s words were a surprise. Once she decided to investigate something, she seldom let it go until she was proven right.

Lady Bright showed her perspicacity when she chuckled. “You are thinking that I never give up until I’m shown to be right. However, in this instance, Amberlina, I have suspected all along that the Ddraennans are exactly what they claim: a mage pair dedicated to their music. Certainly, nobody I have sent has sensed anything else. We shall continue to keep an eye on them, but I do not believe that they will be a problem. With Napoleon on the rampage through Europe and building an invasion army to threaten England, we have many more urgent matters to consider. I shall not forget Mr. and Mrs. Ddraennan, but unless something happens to change my mind, I shall not spend further time on them.”

In a Regency world where magical gifts mean power and status, they struggle to find a place…

Persephone Thornton is in her cousin’s house to spy on him, for he is England’s dragon lord and her father died while on a mission for Wales. Sephie does not expect to actually like her Cousin Jasper and his wife Delia. Nor does she expect her Welsh contact, one of Jasper’s gardeners, to give her the secret to using her mage gift without it twisting into something undesirable.

Taliesin Ddraennen was raised by the Welsh resistance, and has been spying for them since he was sixteen. He has never before been partnered with a lady from the English aristocracy. Seeing past her thorny nature, Taz quickly comes to admire her resilience and intelligence.

When a spell to eavesdrop on the dragon lord’s meetings is discovered and blamed on Sephie, he refuses to leave her behind. Their escape leads them into England’s ancient forests and the arms of the fae, where they discover the true nature of their mage gifts, which have always twisted to give flawed results.

On their return to the outside world, their newfound connection will be immediately put to the test, when Taz is asked to choose between Sephie and Welsh freedom.

With war all around them and peace seemingly impossible, they must find the path that allows them to choose one another.

No Such Thing As Ghosts

By Bluestocking Belles

On October 3, 2026

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

Sam threw the manuscript on the desk. “What is this nonsense?” he demanded.

The journalist – a weedy little man with haunted eyes, an early bald spot, and the meagre beginnings of a moustache – jumped in fright. “Sir,” he protested, “I have it on the best of authority. The Bluestocking Belles themselves have vouched for these stories. Suitable for Halloween, they said.”

Picking up the manuscript again, apparently just so that he could throw it down with even more force, Sam thundered, “Rubbish!” Then, more reasonably, he pointed out, “I ask you, Fanshawe, is this the medieval era, and I have apparently just dreamt that I own a newspaper in the nineteenth century? This is an enlightened age, and we rational creatures no longer believe in… Let me see.”

He picked up the manuscript once again, this time to scan it, making a comment on each of the stories. “A ghost that only one person can see, and no one can hear. And that, furthermore, might not be a ghost at all. Does that sound likely?” He snorted. “And what about this one? A lady who sees ghosts meets a duke? One can only guess how ridiculous such a gentleman might find her. Oh, and look here, two ghosts assist in their romance. Ridiculous.”

Sam was just getting started. “And then there’s the lady who takes a message to a marquess. Reasonable, you might think. But a message from his dead father? I daresay any reasonable peer would show her direct to the door. And this one. A hunter is seeking his kidnapped son and stumbled across a lady on a similar mission. But not just a lady, mark you. A fairy. An actual bone fide fairy! Will our readers believe that? Or will they think we have taken leave of our senses?”

“But sir,” protested the journalist. “The ladies say…”

“The ladies, bless them, have their fingerprints all over these stories,” Sam declared. “I am very fond of them all, mark you. But fairies, ghosts, and look here – this one has a wish granting mouse! Have you ever heard of such a thing. Here’s another. More ghosts, and this time the poor ghost is trying to stop a determined lady from changing things. I could have told him that one should not stand in the way of a determined lady.” He chuckled.

“In the next one are two friendly ghosts, a wounded man, and yet another lady. Oh yes, and a dastardly plot. Well, that’s something I suppose. And last, but not least, we have a pressed-ganged man dreaming of his wife, while she dreams of him. Well, she would, I imagine. Poor thing. I wonder if he finds his way home to her?”

Greatly daring, the journalist said, “You would need to read the book to find out, sir.”

Sam glared at him from over his spectacles and harrumphed. “Very well, then. I’ll print it. Perhaps I won’t be laughed out of London.”

Sam has briefly described the stories in Moonlight Madness, the Bluestocking Belles’ 2026 collection. My contribution to the collection is Moonlight Becomes You, in which a lady sees, but cannot hear a ghost who attempts to warn her about a man who will die if she doesn’t find him soon.

Moonlight Becomes You

By Jude Knight

Hester Williamson doesn’t want to be at this house party. She barely knows anybody, and now, she is seeing things. A man. The ghost of a man, for he appears in rooms without the bother of opening doors, she can see furniture and walls through him, and no one else can see him.

Barnabus Radcliffe seems to be a ghost, though he doesn’t remember dying. Still, why else would he be inaudible, unable to grasp or lift objects, and invisible to everyone except Miss Williamson. And why does he is he certain he is alive somewhere, and that time is running out?

Meet Barney

Barney Radcliffe has a full and interesting life, with money to spare and useful work helping his father with the responsibilities that will one day be his.
And then everything changes. All of a sudden, he is at a house party, and he seemed to be a ghost.

Meet Hester Williamson

Bluestocking Hester does not much enjoy house parties. They are full of suitors who like her money but not much else about her. But when she retreats to the library, she meets a man who seems to admire her appearance as well as her practical good sense. Unfortunately, he seems to be a ghost.

An excerpt from Moonlight Becomes You

The ghost was upset about something. He followed them all back to the house, his misty shape almost disappearing in the sunlight, and came right into Hester’s bedchamber when she went upstairs to remove her coat, bonnet, and gloves.

Here, out of the direct sunlight, he was a little more solid, and she could tell he was attempting an acted charade for her to guess. Two fingers—thin columns of mist. Two syllables. Or two words, perhaps.

He held up one finger—the first syllable. He shook his head and both hands.

“No?” she tried.

That wasn’t it. “Not?”

He nodded approvingly, and held up a second finger.

He lay down on his back, his feet together, his whole body straight, his hands together on his chest in prayer position. The dark patches that marked his eyes disappeared. Had he shut his eyes?

She could think of one word that might fit. “Dead?”

He bounced to his feet, nodding.

“Not dead? Are you saying you are not dead, Mr. Ransome?”

More nodding.

“But you are a ghost. I can see that with my own eyes.”

Mr. Ransome shook his head, and then went into a whole acted routine. She guessed the first bit. He mimed riding a horse, and then threw himself to the ground.

“You were thrown from your horse.”

He nodded and then bent over and hobbled along, miming a walking stick clearly enough that she immediately guessed, “You broke your leg.”

That was wrong, she discovered, but it took a while to get to “old woman.” Indeed, Roxanne came and knocked on her door to fetch her for the painting session she was meant to be attending in the ladies’ parlor before she fully understood what he was trying to tell her.

“Begin without me, Roxanne,” she said. “I need to finish something.”

It was another half hour before she finally guessed the whole.

Fairy Nonsense in the Village at the End of the World

By Bluestocking Belles

On August 9, 2026

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

To the Editor of the Teatime Tattler

Dear Sir

Your paper has recently given coverage to a ridiculous story that is pretends to be a local legend, but that is, in truth, a blatant stunt by an ambitious innkeeper that hopes to make money from tourists seeking true love.

I speak, of course, of the village of F on S, a remote and tumbledown fishing village on the Sussex coast, from which rumors have been spreading about a fairy well, and the “true love blessing” to be gained by drinking its waters.

Having spent several weeks in said village, I can assure your readers that the water does no such thing. I will acknowledge that the villagers are welcoming, the cottages are charming, and the air is salubrious. But fairies? Magic water? I, myself, took the opportunity to drink the water with several quite delightful ladies who had come to see the rumored well for themselves, and here I am, still quite unattached and fancy free.

As to whether I kissed said ladies or not, a gentleman does not speak of such things.

I was also present when a certain distant relative of a well-known duke and a not particularly distinguished but pleasant lady themselves sampled the water on the insistence of said innkeeper. Mr. T. M. and Miss A. W. were already betrothed without the intervention of any magic, though the innkeeper has taken all the credit to himself.

It cannot be argued that the couple are not in love. They are—most unfashionably so. Did the water have anything to do with it? I think not.

Your readers may indeed choose to visit Fenwick, and will no doubt enjoy the experience. Go for the holiday. Go for the sea air. Go for the pleasure of listening to the innkeeper’s tales. But do not fool yourself that the secret of true love lies in the water.

With most sincere best wishes from one who signs himself,

A friend to the truth.

Set in Stone

By Jude Knight

Arianna Westbrook has been dragged to Fenwick by her mother, who is anxious to test the truth of the Fenwick legend. She is triumphant when an eligible bachelor makes an offer for Arianna’s hand. Not so Arianna. She recognizes Edwin Mills as the worst kind of fortune hunter.

Thomas Medlock has a treasure to salvage from a ship that was sunk in April’s terrible storm. He and his partners have borrowed from their client to buy a diving bell, but success will see them free, clear, and with a reputation second to none. He doesn’t have time to rescue damsels in distress.

Except that Arianna is his every dream come true. Besides, with her mother against her, she needs someone who is on her side, with no expectations and no questions asked.

Meet Thom

My hero is one third partner in a marine salvage company, in Fenwick to retrieve a treasure that was aboard one of the ships that sunk in a storm off the Fenwick coast. On a day too windy for diving, he meets a young woman in the village’s Norman church, and discovers a treasure for a lifetime.

Meet Arianna

Arianna is a wealthy heiress who doesn’t want her mother to encourage any more fortune tellers. But how is Arianna to meet a decent and worthy man when her mother has such poor taste in suitors and her own motivations? Yet only one man makes her heart sing. Only one man looks at her, and sees past her wealth.

Diving in 1815

I had great fun finding out about diving bells and their history, and the diving suits that would have been in use in 1815. Here are a couple of excerpts based on that information.

***

Excerpt 1 from Set in Stone

The wreck had broken apart in the storm that had blown it onto the rocks. Thom had interviewed the captain and some of the other survivors, and knew that. His initial survey had confirmed that further storms had scattered debris quite some distance across the reef and the seabed.

Thom had drawn a grid based on that initial survey, with numbered sections for the divers to search. The divers would start with those most likely to contain the detritus of the captain’s cabin, and work out from there.

The first pair descended in their leather suits and copper helmets. The suits fastened tightly at the elbows and knees, leaving the hands and feet bare, and each helmet had a row of windows at eye level, so the wearer could see. A pair of long leather tubes connected to each helmet, one to deliver fresh air and one to allow stale air to escape. A pair of sailors from the crew took first turn on the pumps that sent air down the fresh air tube.

Air was pumped in close to the divers’ mouths, which not only allowed them to breathe underwater, but also helped to send the stale air up the second tube attached to the helmet, and kept the seams of the suits from leaking too rapidly so the divers could stay down for their full half hour. Or longer, but Jim’s rules for the divers erred on the side of safety.

The second pair of divers, the rest of the crew, and the three partners had little to do until the half hour passed. The first pair came up, the second went down, and another two sailors took over the task of pumping. Thom assisted the divers to remove their helmets, and they settled in the chairs ready for them, where pen and paper waited for them to record what they had seen.

Hanging over their shoulders while they worked would achieve nothing. Thom waited as patiently as he could for the next change over, so he could collect up the notes and examine them.

Excerpt 2 from Set in Stone

They had found the captain’s cabin—or, at least, part of it.

“We shall stop for our break,” Thom proclaimed. “And then, when the divers are rested, we’ll lower the diving bell.”

Two of the divers would seat themselves on ledges inside the huge wood and metal device, which would then be carefully lowered to the sea bottom. The divers wouldn’t need their helmets, and they wouldn’t have their view obscured by moving water. The bell would remain largely full of air, and the divers would be able to search, even digging over the section of sea bottom under the bell to check that nothing was hidden.

It would be the same rules as before, adapted for the change from suits to the bell. Two pairs of divers, changing places each time the bell was moved to a fresh piece of sea bottom, and two sailors on the pump that kept the air in the bell from becoming stale.

If their luck held, they might finish their task today.

A Bucket of Water For a Lady

By Bluestocking Belles

On June 6, 2026

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

To S. Clemens, Teatime Tattler

Sam, I found this in the alley behind the Lyon’s Den. It seems like part of a letter and it must have fallen from a window or someone’s pocket. Interesting, don’t you think. Bill.

Something odd happened at work today, Frannie. I had delivered a tea tray to Mrs. Dove Lyon with a message that had just arrived. She told me to wait to see if there was an answer, so I was polishing the desk under the window when I saw Mrs. Dove Lyon take another sip of her tea and once again read the note in her lap. It must be amusing, for she was smiling when she looked up from it and spoke, as if to herself. “You have asked me for one match, child. I rather think I shall be giving you two.”

After that, she said to me. “I need two buckets of warm soapy water, Molly,” she said. “Order them from the kitchen and have them sent to the window immediately above the ladies’ entrance to the Den. Also, send Titan to me.”

I hurried to carry out my orders, but I was, I must admit, curious, and I made sure to linger near the window after delivering my messages.

Imagine my surprise when I saw two of Titan’s wolves pouring water on a lady who had was about to enter by the door below!

I could not understand it, so when I went to collect the tea tray and saw the note, I couldn’t help myself. I read it, Frannie. It was in a schoolgirl hand and as best as I can remember, it said, after the usual salutations:

My dear Lady Ellen, is reluctant to accept a new gown for the meeting, though I have assured her that first impressions are everything. Is there any way you could arrange an accident for her gown so that she has to change into the clothing you have prepared for her? And preferably, to have her hair done in a more becoming style. I shall ensure that we are early for the meeting with your proposed groom.

With my grateful thanks for everything you have done.

I remain your humble servant.

Fivepenny.

What do you think of that? Fivepenny, of course, is the handsome footman who has been delivering game and produce to Mrs. Dove Lyon from the Lady of Carr Abbas. How odd that a wealthy and landed young lady would not have a gown in which to meet a prospective groom.

Mrs. Dove Lyon was equal to the task, of course. No wonder she is the most preeminent matchmaker in London. But what do you suppose she meant by “two matches?”

To W. Snoop, reporter

Bill, forget it. It is interesting, yes, but I know better than to tangle with Mrs. Dove Lyon. Besides, we don’t want to cause trouble for a poor working girl. Sam.

Marriage is the only way to keep Kat’s lady safe…

When her mistress is put out of her childhood home, Kat goes too. She may be only Miss Ellen’s maid, but she has a plan to secure a future for them both. But first, she needs to give Miss Ellen a male escort, for propriety’s sake. Kat herself, dressed as a footman, complete with a fine pair of boots.

Jake has been looking after his employer since they both came home for the war. The captain drinks too much and gambles too much. And now he has come to the attention of the Black Widow of Whitehall. Could a wife be in the offing? Perhaps a wife is just what the captain needs.

But, while the captain is happy with the lady Mrs. Dove Lyon has chosen, Jake has discovered that the lady conceals a secret that could destroy everything. The Lady of Carr Abbass cannot possibly be who she says she is.

… and the one dream for herself Kat thought would never be fulfilled

https://www.amazon.com/Lyon-Lady-Fine-Pair-Boots-ebook/dp/B0GZ8YG4WL/

For more books from Jude Knight, see: https://judeknightauthor.com/books/

A Brave Warrior from Spain is Cruelly Maligned

By Bluestocking Belles

On March 28, 2026

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

After the interview, the visitors left. Sam Clemens, editor of the Teatime Tattler, sank back into his chair with a sigh of relief, and dug for a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Well, that was intense,” said one of his reporter. “What are you going to do, Sam?”

“Publish the interview, obviously,” Sam said. “What else?”

“But the public wants blood, Sam,” said the journalist. “These rumors that are flying around the town are newspaper gold. People want to know all the prurient details. And it is not as if we would be lying. There must be some substance to them. No smoke without fire, and all that.”

Sam didn’t act on his spurt of irritation. Marcus was wrong, but he was also young. Time enough to get angry with him if he proved to be unteachable.

He held up a finger. “Point one,” he said. “A determined gossip only needs to embroider a few facts to make the billowing smoke look like a whole bonfire. If you are going to be a serious writer, my lad, don’t resort to cliches.”

A second finger joined the first. “Point two. I’ve looked into the sources of the scandal, the people who started circulating the stories. The gossip all goes back to people who have something to gain. The Brethertons. They thought they had the colonel locked up as a groom for their girl. The marriage would have saved them, and then his wife came back from the dead, and now they face bankruptcy. They believe they’ll get a cash settlement from Redepenning if they make enough fuss. They’re idiots. He and his family will crush them.”

“But they’re not the only ones,” Marcus protested.

He would have said more, but Sam didn’t wait. “True. Lady Carrington, who has been trying to hurt the Redepennings since the younger sons refused to play her wicked games and gave her the cut direct. That was before your time, Marcus, a decade ago. She lies as easily as she breathes, that woman, and I wouldn’t take her word for it if she said the sky was blue. In fact, lad, that’s a good principal for a reporter. Don’t take anyone’s word for anything. Check your facts. As for that cur Major Weston, I have it on good authority that he is jealous of the colonel, and is motivated by spite.”

“What about the Frenchie, Sam?” Marcus asked, sounding interested rather than combatative.

“Him, I don’t know. Perhaps he is just being used by Lady Carrington, but from what people overheard at the ball, he appears to think he is revenging his brother. That doesn’t mean, though, that there’s truth to the rumours she worked with the man spying for the French. Indeed, logically, if her actions led to the brother’s death, it seems unlikely that she was working with the man or was his lover.”

He could do with a drink. He poured them both a brandy, and sat down again. “As for the lady’s children, the eldest is obviously Colonel Redepenning’s. The other two, he says, are war orphans that she adopted. Since she came here with a whole pack of war widows and their children, it is not unlikely.”

Where had he got to? Ah yes. “Third point, the story Redepenning tells is even more compelling. Two people, both warriors, both the best of their kind, praised by Wellington. They meet in the midst of war, and fall in love. Then tragedy happens. Her band of Spanish freedom fighters is ambushed and slaughtered, and he believes her to be dead. The country is in confusion, with the tides of war ebbing and flowing, land changing hands from the French to the allies and back again hour by hour.”

Marcus was nodding, hanging on every word. Good. He had the right instincts. He was hearing the drama, the pathos. Sam continued. “The lady escapes the ambush because she is giving birth. When the baby is old enough to leave, she sets out to seek her husband, and is captured by the French. Eventually she manages to escape, but she is injured, ill. By the time she is well enough to resume the search, our armies have chased the French into France. The British Army has other priorities than helping one couple to reunite. And so our heroine works and waits, saving money for an epic journey, across oceans, seeking the man she loves. She must know what has become of him.”

He downed the rest of his brandy and stood. “Write it, Marcus. You were here. You heard the interview. Write the story and bring it to me. You have two hours. End with the reunion. Husband and wife, joyfully together after all the blood, all the violence, all the tears. Make the readers feel it. Have them cheering the Redepennings on. Wipe the floor with those dirty rags who forget that people love a happy ending.”

There was another point he wanted to make. Oh yes. “Before you start, fourth point. The Redepennings are one of the most powerful families in this land. They are allied with the Haverfords, who are even more powerful. In fact, Brigadier General Redepenning, the colonel’s father, is friends with the Deerhavens and the Dellboroughs, too. No newspaper that wants to survive can afford to annoy three dukes, Marcus, and don’t you forget it.”

An Unpitied Sacrifice

“When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall, one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle.” Edmund Burke

Brought together by war, Valeria Izquierdos and Harry Redepenning had only a few short months as a couple before the war parted them again.

That war is long over when she brings a group of war brides and children to England. Her friends seek their soldier husbands. Valeria wants to find Harry or, if Harry’s long silence means he is dead, his father. Her eldest child deserves to know his English family.

Harry has never forgotten, or ceased to mourn, the warrior wife he married in the midst of war, and lost to a French ambush years ago. His courtship of a suitable wife is a practical matter, not involving the heart that has been numb since Valeria’s death.

The Redepenning family greet Valeria with suspicion, but when Harry joyously confirms her identity, they welcome her and her children with open arms—not just Kiko, whose Redepenning eyes mark him as Harry’s son, but also the daughter she adopted and the younger son who origins she has disclosed only to Harry.

But as Valeria, Harry, and the children begin living as a family, another, private, war looms before them. The lady who had been smugly awaiting Harry’s proposal is less than pleased with the couple’s reunion. She and her parents set out to destroy Valeria’s reputation, and find willing accomplices.

An old foe of the Redepennings has combined forces with a man who blames Valeria for his brother’s death, and who wants Valeria’s youngest child. A rival of Harry’s from the army would be glad to hurt Harry however he can. These enemies will stop at nothing to destroy not only Harry and Valeria, but also their family.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0GNNV18BP

https://books2read.com/u/479JAA

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