Nettleblack by Nat Reeve


Nat Reeve

Hold on tight for a whimsical romp with a subversive Victorian detective agency who challenge their society’s expectations about women, sexuality and gender whilst engaged in increasingly chaotic investigations. Told with wit, eccentricity and tenderness, this mysterious farce will have you gripped until the final page.


And - sweet figs - I know I’ve everything in this hectic village world to fret for -I know I ought to be worrying about the disappearing head, and the malign intent behind it- and the Sweetings, with their descent into overboldness and dangerous weaponry - and Mr. Adelstein, hovering above me like an owl about to strike - and Edwina, and aristocratic marriages, and all the horrors of my old life - but I shan’t. Not tonight. Not when I can wind my fingers round the hand she just held and press it to the sharp edges of my collarbone. I can’t answer for what I’ll dream of, if I dream once this entry’s concluded, but I’m certain to the very marrow on the question of what I’ll think about, until the warmth and comfort of the calm of it tips me into sleep.

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