I Shot the Sheriff: A Tragic Character in Classic Literature Series Novel by Regina Jeffers is a Historical Fiction/Romance Bookish Event pick #historicalromance #giveaway
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  • N. N. Light
    • Mar 21
    • 7 min read

I Shot the Sheriff: A Tragic Character in Classic Literature Series Novel by Regina Jeffers is a Historical Fiction/Romance Bookish Event pick #historicalromance #giveaway



Title: 

I Shot the Sheriff: A Tragic Character in Classic Literature Series Novel (Love After All)

 

Author:

Regina Jeffers

 

Genre:

classic literature and fiction; classic historical fiction; adaptation; pastiche fiction; classic romance fiction; historical British fiction; Regency romance; classic romance fiction; Georgian romance

 

Book Blurb:

 

How does one reform the infamous Sheriff of Nottingham? Easy. With Patience.

 

William de Wendenal, the notorious Sheriff of Nottingham, has come to London, finally having wormed his way back into the good graces of the Royal family. Yet, not all of Society is prepared to forgive his former “supposed” transgressions, especially the Earl of Sherwood.

 

However, when de Wendenal is wounded in an attempt to protect Prince George from an assassin, he becomes caught up in a plot involving stolen artwork, kidnapping, murder, and seduction that brings him to Cheshire where he must willingly face a gun pointed directly at his chest and held by the one woman who stirs his soul, Miss Patience Busnick, the daughter of a man de Wendenal once escorted to prison.

 

I Shot the Sheriff is based on the classic tales of Robin Hood, but it is given a twist and brought into the early 19th Century’s Regency era. Can even de Wendenal achieve a Happily Ever After? If anyone can have the reader cheering for the Sheriff of Nottingham’s happiness, it is award-winning author Regina Jeffers.

 

Excerpt:

 

Patience sucked in a quick breath. She had a thousand questions, but her godfather was not likely to answer any of them until she finished her report. “I knew something of the players below, that is, all except Lord de Wendenal.” She was vaguely familiar with the baronet and Lords Swenton and Worthing, for they each had served under her godfather as part of the Home Office. “Although I recognized him, I have never taken the acquaintance of Lord de Wendenal.” She would not confess to her godfather that while she sighted the rifle, using the seam of the barrel as her point of reference and preparing to take action, as was necessary to assure the Prince’s security, her eyes had landed upon the man, whose reputation as being cold and unmoving had preceded him. He concentrated on the situation, while she concentrated on him. His evening clothes accented his broad shoulders—the type of shoulders that could easily carry a sea of troubles—the type upon which any woman would wish to rest her head. In spite of the shadows hiding much of his forehead, except for his piercing blue eyes, she recognized the ruthless determination upon his features as he crept closer to what was surely another assailant and danger. In that instant, she thought truly to know such a man would be spectacular.

 

Her musings had been interrupted by the turning of all heads below, except that of de Wendenal’s, to Dylan Monroe upon the balcony. She had been so captivated by Lord de Wendenal, she had not noted the entrance of Lord Godown upon the balcony, who had caught the woman to him and silenced her screams before they occurred. The marquis stood tall, like some sort of Greek god, the man’s reputation, as Adonis come to Earth, well deserved.

 

“As you know,” she continued, after bringing her wayward thoughts into order, “Lord Godown appeared on the balcony. Monroe was unaware of the man’s presence until it was too late. Lord Godown called Monroe’s name and your former agent turned. You know what occurred at that point.”

 

It had all played out as if the seconds crawled by. Monroe turned. Lord Godown threw a knife with expert precision. The knife flipped end-over-end, striking Monroe in the soft part of the man’s throat. Monroe emitted a gurgling sound and reached for the knife, his grip on the gun falling away as it exploded—the bullet hitting the plastered ceiling and sending shards of an ornate carving on those gathered below.

 

“Realizing my attention had been drawn away from the scene below, I made myself concentrate on what was playing out in the ballroom. Lord Lexford took aim at Monroe, hitting the man between the eyes and sending the body tumbling over the balcony, slamming into the floor with a sickening thud that resonated in my very soul; yet, I did not look away from where Monroe’s accomplice jerked his hand up higher, exposing a gun. Screams filled the air, but I lined up the shot to eliminate Monroe’s partner.” She had never killed a man—never known the grief of taking another’s life, but she had sworn a duty to protect Prince George from harm. Her country, and she prayed her God, would forgive her.

 

“However, once again, my attention had been pulled from my target. Another man stood along the edge of the ballroom,” she explained, her memory filled with the images of all that had occurred.

 

“Did you observe his face? Did you recognize him?” Pennington demanded.

 

“No. He was under the overhang of the balcony. But he seemed familiar. His movements. The slant of his shoulders. But I could not name him.” She sat straighter and did not look at her godfather. “I know my responsibility was to protect the Prince—my orders from you had been specific, and you will not approve, but I chose to protect Lord de Wendenal instead. If you mean to arrest me for denying my duties, I shall understand.”

 

A long silence held between them. “You must have fired at the same time as did the senior Monroe and Lord de Wendenal’s assailant. All who observed the encounter claimed there were only three shots in total: Dylan Monroe’s, Lexford’s, and when the elder Monroe attempt to shoot Prince George. Monroe’s bullet struck Sir Carter as the baronet knocked the Prince from the way.”

 

“I imagine the uproar could have disguised the sounds,” she offered lamely, “making them appear as one, when, in reality, they were fractions of a second apart.”

 

Pennington appeared lost in his thoughts. “Perhaps.” Another long pause followed. “Might you explain why you chose Lord de Wendenal over the our country’s future king? My supervisors will wish to know your reasons.”

 

Tears misted Patience eyes. She had failed the one man who had never failed her, and she had spent many a sleepless hour last evening, attempting to make sense of her decision. She had known when their conversation began, the answer to this question was the reason for their meeting. Her godfather would not question her decisions, for he permitted his agents much latitude in the execution of their duties, but Lord Liverpool would not be so forgiving. In her three years with the Home Office, she had developed somewhat of a reputation for being impulsive. Her brothers had often declared, “Father named you ‘Patience’ because he thought doing so would be a fine plague upon society.” 

 

“I have no reason,” she admitted softly. “I do not even know Lord de Wendenal.” She shrugged, feeling quite incompetent. “It was necessary, that is all I can say. Lords Swenton and Worthing approached the senior Mr. Monroe.”

 

“As did Lord de Wendenal,” her godfather observed.

 

“Yes, of all the Prince’s supposed friends and protectors, it was Lord de Wendenal, a man many of those in attendance last evening openly despise, who acted without thought for his own safety.”

 

Pennington groused, “I wish I could be so certain de Wendenal did not act with an ulterior motive.”

 

“Even if he did wish the Prince’s favor, Lord de Wendenal did act when others looked on in shock or in hopes of a different outcome.” She laid her head against the shoulder of a man who had always accepted her foibles. “I did not reason it out at the time. Four men protected Prince George, but only one had his own attacker. It all did not appear fair in the scheme of things.”

 

He sighed heavily. “Very much as I suspected.” He lifted her chin with two fingers so he might place a kiss upon her cheek. “You were always the first to right a wrong.”

 

“It grieves me you must answer to Lord Liverpool because of my error in judgement,” she said obediently.

 

“Shan’t be the first time,” he grumbled. “Likely won’t be the last. And who knows? Perhaps your choice was not a mistake, after all.”

 

“What may I do to atone for the trouble I have caused you?” she asked.

 

He grinned at her. “The answer approaches.”

 

Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):

 

 

Available to Read in Kindle Unlimited

 

 

 


What makes your featured book a must-read? 

 

A book that can evoke a range of emotions, generally, hits the spot immediately. I Shot the Sheriff is just one of a eight books based on tragic characters in this series. Two of them were penned by me, but there are other authors who take on Heathcliff, Macbeth, Madame Bovary, Frankenstein, Miles Standish, etc. What I enjoyed most in writing this book and this series is I had used a brief mention in Book 6 of my Realm series, A Touch of Love, of the Sheriff of Nottingham assisting in transporting prisoners to London, in support of the Realm, which was a covert operation run by the Home Office. In that story, I playfully presented the character the name of William de Wendenal, the actual man who served as the model for the infamous character in the Robin Hood tales. That brief scene where de Wendenal with the Realm was amplified and is the opening chapter of this book. Do you not simply adore coming across a familiar character from another book? I love doing this. My “Adam Lawrence” appears in 10 of my novels, with “walk throughs,” more developed plot lines, and his own novel, His Irish Eve. We all like meeting old friends. That is what makes this story special. Love him or hate him, you know the Sheriff of Nottingham before the story begins.

 

Giveaway –

 

Enter to win a $40 Amazon gift card:

 

 

Open Internationally.


Runs March 21 – April 2, 2024.


Winner will be drawn on April 3, 2024.

 


Author Biography:

 

Regina Jeffers writes books about corsets, rakes, daring heroines, dashing heroes and all aspects of the Georgian/Regency era. She is an award winning author of cozy mysteries, historical romantic suspense, and Austenesque vagaries. Jeffers has been a Smithsonian presenter and Martha Holden Jennings Scholar, as well as having her tales honored by, among others, the Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense, the Frank Yerby Award for Fiction, the International Digital Awards, and the Chanticleer International Book Award.

 

Social Media Links:

 

Every Woman Dreams (Blog)  https://reginajeffers.wordpress.com

Always Austen (Group Blog) https://alwaysausten.com/

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