How to Murder a Duke

By Sherri L Hollister

Harry's honor is tested when Winnie becomes a target for murder. Winnie Applegate becomes a target for murder when she starts investigating who is killing the Dukes of Applegate.

Facing many changes and heartache Winnie uses skills she learned when traveling with the Wild West Show. Winnie is determined who hired someone to try and kill he

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cushing Publishig
• Release date: May 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9781963661095

Book preview

Prologue

Bridgwater, England Spring 1886

The ship dropped anchor just outside of Bridgwater, England. Winnie went onto the deck to watch with her brother, Riley and her new stepmother as Millie was taken in shackles from the brig to the boat launch. The trip across the Atlantic had been more adventurous than she cared to repeat. Unlike Cassie, she wasn’t trained to catch murderers and she was relieved it was over. What will happen to her? She wrapped a wool shawl more tightly about her shoulders as the wind twisted her skirt about her legs.

I don’t know what the legalities are here. They will probably extradite her to stand trial in America. Cassie reached for her hand. Are you all right?

Winnie wasn’t sure she’d ever be all right again. She licked her lips nervously. Will we have to give witness?

Overhearing their conversation, her father walked over and put his arm around her shoulders. They were nearly the same height, both quite tall. Due to your age and your gender, I’m sure they wouldn’t call you to testify, He reassured her.

John, whether you want to face it or not, your daughter is a grown woman, Cassie gently reminded her new husband.

Winnie forced a smile for her parent’s sake. She wasn’t sure how she felt about not testifying but she didn’t want to have a conversation with her father on the ship’s deck about her impending womanhood. I don’t know if I wish to appear in court but on the other hand, it feels like it’s my duty. We caught a murderer. If a woman can stand trial for murder, then why shouldn’t a woman testify? After everything they’d been through all of their trials on their journey to get to England, the sabotages, the murders, and her brother, Riley being labeled a suspect, not to mention all of the attacks on her family, it made her angry to think that just because she was a woman, she wouldn’t be allowed to give her testimony.

Cassie squeezed her hand.

Harry MacDonald moved towards the boat launch with the constables. His red hair was like a beacon in the early morning fog. Winnie’s stupid heart skipped a beat. Her mind might know they had no future, her heart hadn’t yet caught up with that news item.

Cassie tightened her grip on her hand.

She glanced at her stepmother. With Cassie, she could be honest but was not quite ready to open herself up for dissection with her father and brother.

After learning Harry was sent here to find her father who was next in line to be Duke of Applegate, she had been left confused, hurt and angry. Did he truly not care for her? Was he just pretending in order to get close to her family? He said she was the granddaughter of a duke, but she was not cut out to be a lady. Her life was the show. Would she have to go on without her father? Would Riley stay and learn how to be a duke’s heir? She didn’t like all of these unanswered questions. Another came to mind. Alan? Was he working with someone in England? If only he were still alive to tell them. What if someone was still trying to kill the heirs of the Duke of Applegate? What did that mean for her family? How would she keep them safe?

She watched as Harry got into the launch and her heart stopped. She held back her tears but anyone listening could hear them in her words. What’s Harry doing?

Her grandfather joined them at the deck rail. He asked the constables if he could disembark with them. He said he needed to get to the estate immediately to check on the duke. Colonel Bill sighed. He was not used to inactivity and Winnie could see there was something worrying him. He is worried. He’s had no contact from the estate since before we left America. He swallowed hard. He fears the worst.

And he wasn’t the only one, Winnie thought. Her grandfather was going home to meet the only family he had left, his nephew and his brother’s wife. Not just his brother’s wife…She looked up at her grandfather her own heartache seemed frivolous in light of his.

The colonel raised one brushy silver brow.

Blushing, Winnie lowered her eyes, she hated exposing her weakness to their prying eyes. But he didn’t even say goodbye, she whispered. She tried to keep the emotion out of her voice but when Riley growled under his breath, she knew she had not succeeded in appearing neutral.

We’ll be right behind him as soon as we get the troupe settled, colonel Bill reassured her.

Why don’t you and Winnie go on to the estate, her father suggested. Cassie and I can settle the troupe and follow along behind you. John looked down at his new bride, his adoration was painful to watch.

Winnie and Cassie shared a look. Did Cassie understand her fears? What about the assassin? Winnie asked. We’re certain Alan was working with someone here in England. Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean you’re safe.

John draped his arm about Cassie’s shoulders. I have Cassie to protect me, he said with a grin. What could be safer than my very own Pinkerton agent?

Cassie smiled at her husband. I don’t wish to be a widow anytime soon, but I’m not sure if my credentials are recognized here. I’m afraid, darlin’, that should anything happen, I’m just a woman with a gun.

Well, I feel safer with you around. He kissed her temple.

Winnie turned away tamping down the envy that threatened to creep in. She was happy for the newlyweds, but she couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as she watched Harry row away.

Chapter 1

Appleton Estate Sommerset, England

Sarah, the dowager duchess of Applegate exited her son’s sick room. She stood in the hallway and inhaled deeply of the relatively fresh air trying to clear her senses of the odor of death. Her eyes were dry, there were no tears left to shed. She’d outlived two dukes, and it looked as if she might outlive a third before the year was through. She was weary of wearing black. The damned Queen and her idea of proper mourning, Sarah muttered. But if her son survived whatever illness afflicted him, the Queen be damned, she would throw off her widow’s weeds and don the brightest ball gown to celebrate. Let the peers wag their tongues for if Jeremy lived, she would throw a party and give them all leave to look down their pointed noses at her. Geoffrey would understand. He’d not wish her to continue to mourn. God, she missed him. He would know what to do.

She tugged at the stiff collar of her dress. It was not the latest fashion, but she’d had no time to order any mourning clothes after Geoffrey’s accident. She’d had to settle for dying the ones she already had. Her gowns hung off her gaunt frame, but how could she eat when her only child was dying? She plucked at the black fabric noticing the frayed cuff. I should order some new gowns. While she might not care whether society spoke ill of her for not properly mourning the old duke, her father-in-law, the old bastard, had deserved to die a horrible death and she would have gladly danced on his grave. She’d only gone through the motions for propriety and her husband’s sake. But for her Geoffrey, she would give him the respect he deserved. He had been a good, kind man. And as good a husband as one could hope for…considering. She sighed. He’d been taken too soon, and now, her own son lay at death’s door. Who was killing the dukes of Applegate and why? A tear slid down her cheek, but she shoved it aside. She’d not thought there were any left to cry. There was no time for tears. She needed to eat, bathe, and rest while Mrs. Lockwood sat with Jeremy.

Mrs. Lockwood was more than the housekeeper. She was her friend. In truth, Oliva Lockwood was her only friend. She’d known the woman since they were girls. When Sarah first arrived at Applegate, an orphaned relative dependent upon the old duke’s mercy, she’d been so thankful to Olivia and her sister, Leona, for their offer of friendship. She’d learned quite by accident the cost they paid to be her friend. She could never repay their sacrifice and the price of the bastard duke’s kindness. Like that vulgar man knew anything of kindness. She would not let that horrible man steal one more moment of her thoughts. He was dead and the world was better off without him. But the old wound he’d inflicted had never quite healed, often when she least expected it, the old fracture in her heart tried to crack open, but she dammed it back up. There was no use crying over what might have been. She had enough to contend with at the moment. Besides, it’d been forty years. It was time to get over it. Forty years? The realization made her feel suddenly old and tired.

Voices from below halted her steps. Damn those vultures! She would rather do without food than face her husband’s family. Let the vultures eat themselves. She’d not give them another bone to gnaw on. Quickening the pace to her room, she remembered the tin of cookies hidden in her bedchamber. Dining on cookies was better than facing the unwanted relatives who’d come to wait for the last duke of Applegate to die. She’d thought she had succeeded in running them all off with her lack of hospitality and sufficient staff, but even as she’d watched the carriages drive away, she’d known Pemberton would remain.

The Earl of Pemberton was next in line to be duke. He and Geoffrey had been friends of a sort, and cousins. He wasn’t a bad fellow, but she was in no mood to deal with anything else. She felt every one of her fifty-eight years and a glimpse in her mirror showed the haggard face of an old woman. Tears blurred the image. Until Geoffrey’s death, she had often been mistaken for a girl half her age. She suspected Pemberton had come hoping to court her once her mourning period was over. But she had no interest in another man, not with the loss of her one true love still so fresh in her heart and Jeremy’s illness. Sarah touched her face, noticing to her dismay that she no longer had dimples, the fine lines in her face and the silver in her hair were becoming more prominent, she could not imagine even the long-widowed Pemberton desiring to marry an old crone. She swallowed the disappointment and turned from the mirror. Life was hard. No one knew that better than an orphan, especially an orphaned girl. She should be thankful the old duke had seen some use for her, or she and her brother would have ended up in an orphanage or worse. Shoving aside her maudlin thoughts, she hurried to wash some of the sickroom from her skin, change her dress, and repair her hair. Jeremy had taken another turn for the worse. She feared pneumonia on top of whatever else he was battling. To add insult to injury, she was fairly certain someone in her household had betrayed her confidence and alerted the relatives of Jeremy’s impending doom. They had been descending like flies on shit for the past week, but she’d gotten rid of them. Well, all but one, Pemberton. She rolled her eyes. Lord, give me strength not to strangle the man. Pemberton and his son had insisted on staying and while Sarah had no fight left in her to run them off, she also had no plans to entertain them. This wasn’t a house party, and they were not her guests. If Pemberton thought she was going to cater to him, he had another thought coming. She’d dismissed most of the servants, keeping only Mrs. Lockwood and her sister, a couple of maids, and the stable boy. It made chores difficult, and she’d had to pitch in, but with the smaller household, Sarah felt more capable of protecting her son. She had no desire to attend yet another family funeral. She believed someone had poisoned Jeremy, but she’d yet to figure out who and how. She’d held out hope the doctor would provide an antidote and all would be well. Now she feared it was something even worse than poisoning—cancer.

She located the tin of cookies and took a small bite. Her stomach growled in protest. She needed more than sugared pastry to get through this latest battle. Putting the cookies away, she glanced once again in the mirror and was relieved to see a more composed version of herself. She would have to brave the questions and speculation if she wanted sustenance. Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, Sarah marched out of her bedroom and down the stairs determined to remain in control.

Pemberton believed his friendship with her husband granted him certain liberties. He had tried to insinuate himself into her graces. Why he would think she would trust him or need to rely on him, she could not fathom. Pemberton had been out riding with Geoffrey that last day. Did he feel guilty for letting her husband die? It was Pemberton who had come to the house with the news of her husband’s death. He had tried to act as if he were her savior. Like she needed a man to save her. She had been doing things for herself since she was a young girl, not that she wasn’t grateful for his assistance in planning Geoffrey’s funeral service. Of all Geoffrey’s relatives, he was the least obnoxious, but that wasn’t saying much. Sarah knew she was being unkind, but she had no tact left. Perhaps she should be grateful to Pemberton. He had, after all, summoned a doctor for Geoffrey after he had been thrown from his horse. But that accident was something that never should have happened. Geoffrey had been an excellent horseman. She was still uncertain what had spooked his horse and caused the beast to rear up, unseating him, making her a widow. She tried not to buy into the conspiracy theory that someone had cursed the dukes of Applegate. No, more than likely, her family had become a target for someone else’s greed. Pemberton was next in line to be duke if Harry couldn’t convince William’s son to come to England. William’s son. She glanced back at her son’s closed door. If Jeremy didn’t make it, could she find solace in William’s son?

Taking a deep breath, she descended the stairs; she would beard the lion in his den or rather, her den, it wasn’t his yet. It was time Pemberton provided her with some answers. She needed to know what really happened the day Geoffrey was killed.

Pemberton and his son, Rys sat playing cards in the parlor their backs to the door. Sarah started to go in and demand answers, but as her hand shook with fatigue and fear, she knew she wasn’t quite ready to face her husband’s relatives just yet. She needed fortification. A bracing cup of strong tea and a bit of meat would renew her resolve.

Sarah entered the kitchen and immediately felt the heat of the cooking fires. She swayed on her feet.

Your Grace! The cook, Leona shouted and rushed to her side. Come Your Grace, let’s set you down and get you something to eat.

Sarah wasn’t as close to Leona as she was to her sister, Olivia, but still they shared a more intimate relationship than that of peer and servant. Growing up on the isolated apple farm with only the servant girls and young William to play with, and her brother Daniel to care for, Sarah had not thought her station above that of the other girls. In fact, she’d always believed herself quite low on the household rung. She was a poor, orphaned relative with no dowery or education. She’d had no inkling that the old duke had already planned for her to marry his oldest son. Had she known, perhaps she would have behaved differently, but she doubted it. She’d been a lonely child and was quite grateful for any offer of friendship she received.

Here Your Grace, sit down here in the dining room. It’s cooler than the kitchen. I’ll bring you some strong tea and how about a bit of that beef stew?

Sarah forced a smile. That sounds lovely, Cook, thank you.

The other woman bobbed a shallow curtsy and hurried away.

That was another thing Sarah had never quite gotten used to. Even after she and Geoffrey wed and they began going about in society, she had not felt comfortable as one of the peers. She’d had to develop thick skin and pretend the harsh critiques of the