The Gamekeeper's Daughter

By Eva Gordon

Queen Victoria's top assassin, Lord Alexander Stokes harbors his fair share of dark secrets. Chief among them his membership in an elite brothel. When a damsel-in-distress appeals for his help, he ponders the consequences, yet her similarity to his first love intrigues him. He offers to help her with a single condition: that the beauty consents to be his chattel for an entire year.

 

Given no choice, Julia agrees to his terms. Anything is better than going to the gallows for a murder she did not commit, especially when the real killer is stalking her. Despite her misgivings about being the masked man's chattel, his raw masculine power lures her in like a hawk to her falconer.

 

Can they learn to trust one another and live long enough to know true love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eva Gordon
• Release date: Mar 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393382584

Eva Gordon

Eva Gordon writes genre bending paranormal/fantasy/steampunk and historical novels with a strong romantic element. She loves to create stories that combine her passion for mythology, steamy romance, and action/suspense. Her imagination takes her from one universe to the next. Thus far, she has several series lined up as well as single titles waiting in line for production. Eva has a BS in Zoology and graduate studies in Biology. When not in her den writing, she can be found teaching animal lore at writing conventions, at work at the raptor rehabilitation center, wolf sanctuaries, or to satisfy her inner Hemingway on some global eco adventure.

Book preview

August 15, 1860 London

Julia peered out the window of the Clarence carriage as it plodded through the congested late afternoon London traffic. She stared into the thick haze at the crowd of pedestrians and her heart fluttered. Could he be out there? Not a day went by that she didn’t have a fleeting thought about her first and true love, Alexander, but today it was as though she felt his presence. As if at any moment, he would sneak up behind her and clasp his large hands over her eyes. Alexander had always stalked her when she was preoccupied reading or drawing. She closed her eyes, almost feeling his kiss on her exposed neck and then his sensual nibble on her earlobe.

The carriage picked up speed and Julia turned away from the window. She leaned back on her seat and sighed. He was her past. A man she could never have but would always love. After nearly twelve years, he had certainly forgotten her. When young Alexander last saw her, she was just becoming a woman. Back then he had been so enraptured by her and so insufferably protective. Julia huffed. If only he’d known the tragic perils of her recent years.

No matter, her life had changed for the better, thanks to her kind husband, William Foxworth, and her new circle of scientist friends. Julia smiled, anxious to show William her new blue taffeta gown. He’d told her to find an expensive dress and hurry home. Tonight, they would banquet with members of the Linnean Society. Julia even wore her hair up and rather liked her luxurious gown. Unusual for her, since she always dressed for hiking, riding, and collecting specimens. She gazed at her black gloves. This evening she’d wear new white ones.

Julia and William looked forward to meeting Thomas Henry Huxley, Charles Darwin’s bulldog. Her husband wished to share his views about man’s inner apelike emotions as seen in baboons. Actually, her views, but it would be unseemly of her to share them, being as she was a woman and barred from attending open meetings.

At last, the carriage pulled alongside her home. Julia stepped out, lifted her skirts, and rushed inside.

Julia entered her flat. Martha, I’m back. No answer. She peered into the drawing room. Where was she? The housekeeper must be upstairs, perhaps serving William tea. She rushed up the stairs to his study.

Julia gently knocked and opened the door. Dearest, I… She gasped. Sprawled on the floor lay her husband. A knife buried deep in his chest. William! Julia knelt by his side.

He moaned. She held his bloody hand to her heart. Please, no. Her vision blurred. After breakfast, he’d read her his research paper and then said she would be the prettiest lady at the banquet, then added, and the most practical of scientists. Tomorrow, they planned to meet with Professor Bingham to discuss next year’s expedition to Africa. Stay with me, my dearest.

Julia’s gaze darted around the room. Nothing seemed out of order, with no signs of a struggle. Her pulse quickened. Was the murderer still here? She held his hand, willing him to live. So much blood.

The door slammed behind her and she twisted.

Julia froze, except for her pounding heart.

There stood the man she hated most in the world, her husband’s nephew. Her rapist. The specter who haunted her nightmares. A man capable of cold-blooded murder.

Julia gaped, robbed of speech. After what seemed an endless perpetuity of terror, she found her voice. Stellan? He held her white gloves, speckled with blood. William’s blood. He must have found them in her room. Julia sputtered, You, you…stabbed him.

Stellan sneered. Uncle William refused to change his will.

Julia cringed. Stellan Boyd, one year her senior, built like an ox, thick and broad shouldered, stood before her. Eyes as dark as his heart. His shoulder-length hair in disarray and his face sporting thick, bushy sideburns. A rake and a gambler. She had not seen him in nearly three years.

He had brutally beaten and raped her while she worked as William Foxworth’s artist and assistant. He’d beaten her with such ferocity his last strike sent her falling back, hitting her head against a statue, knocking her unconscious. As she lay dead to the world, he raped her. After finding out what his nephew had done, William removed him from his will and ordered him to leave at once to America and never return, or else face the authorities. The last she heard, he’d gone to New York, but that was all she knew—or cared to know—about the brute. Julia had even refused to visit America, lest she run into him. Out of loyalty to his dead sister, William balked at having Stellan arrested.

Left bruised and pregnant, affluent William Foxworth, twenty years her senior, married her. It would have been easy for him to throw her out, as Lord Stokes had done, after her father, his gamekeeper, died of typhoid. But William had been a man of honor and did what he thought was right. God forbid what would have happened to her had William sent her away, pregnant and penniless. She returned her gaze to William. Anger replaced fear. Julia stood and faced her nemesis. You’ll hang for this.

No, my dear Julia, you will be executed for the murder of your older, rich husband. After all, who will the court believe? His beloved nephew and true heir, or a gamekeeper’s daughter?

Her heartbeat raced. Where was Martha? Julia prayed she stepped out to run an errand. Or had Stellan silenced her just as he had William?

He smiled. His blood is on your gloves.

Julia scooted along the wall toward the door. You really think the police will believe you? She glanced at his black gloves and back at her stained ones.

His demeanor darkened. Uncle William told me you had my child. If I had known, I would have married you. But no, you both kept it from me!

Julia didn’t believe William told him. The other confidants such as her doctor and William’s solicitor had sworn to keep her child’s paternity a secret. Perhaps a former nurse let it slip? She’d grown to love the unborn baby and mourned her loss as if she had been the child of love and not brutal rape. She spat, Marry my rapist? Not on your life!

He leered at her low-cut gown. I approve of your new attire.

So, you came back to murder your uncle and frame me?

I needed to borrow money, but he refused. He scolded me about how I left you a ruined woman and you lost my child. He glowered and stepped toward her. Did you strangle her at birth?

Angry tears threatened to fall. I loved her!

Stellan groaned and lifted a fist. You will pay…

Julia cowered and covered her face from the fist that had previously pounded her with no remorse. She whimpered, remembering the first blow to her gut that left her without breath. Her voice shaky, she said, You would see I get the hangman’s noose for a murder you committed?

His tone softened. I will bargain, your life for the Pink Anemone.

Stellan spoke of the fifty-carat diamond that had been in the Foxworth Family for generations, and thankfully, well hidden. I have no clue where he keeps it.

Tell me where the Pink Anemone is, and we’ll fetch it and take the next ship out of here.

The thought of leaving with him nauseated her. I’d rather hang. She glanced at William. Blood spilled from his parted lips. His chest rose once, and then stilled in brutal finality.

Husband?

Stellan twisted toward William and sneered. Stay dead, Uncle.

Julia dashed out the door.

Stellan raced after her. Help! Murderer! That woman just stabbed my dear uncle!

It was dusk and foggy. Panic struck her heart. Her husband’s blood was on her white gloves. Who would they believe? No one knew his nephew was a rapist. William had raised and loved his nephew and kept the secret to protect him from scandal. She was educated but, as a gamekeeper’s daughter, she had no real station other than that given to her by her wealthy husband. Investigators would learn she’d helped her father skin hides from hunted game.

Alerted bobbies blew their whistles. Stellan’s fierce voice echoed down the street. Find her! She murdered my uncle!

Her capture meant the gallows. Julia ran into the thick fog of a dark alleyway. As she turned a corner, a door opened a crack and she dashed in.

Julia closed the door, her breaths rapid like a cornered fox.

A small man sporting a bowler, dressed in a brassy gold vest and black suit, grabbed her arm. About time! You the new girl? Lottie? His accent was crisp, not cockney as expected of a man lurking around a back alley.

Julia forced a trembling smile. Y-yes. I’m Lottie.

He bowed. My lady, you’re the prettiest by far, and young. He smiled. This way.

He unlocked a second door and they walked down a spiral stairway. Every fiber in her being urged her to turn around and leave. A woman alone, following a strange man down to who knows where? But he seemed to expect Lottie, the new girl. Men shouting and police whistles blowing, convinced her to continue the ruse. If she pretended to be Lottie, no doubt a fallen woman, she would bide her time until she could contact her husband’s solicitor, Mr. Gosphord. He knew Stellan had raped her and knew his true character.

The little man unlocked the door at the bottom of the steps, and her mouth dropped open. Inside was a dark tunnel lit with torches. It reminded her of the entryway to a dungeon, dark and foreboding. She slipped off her wedding ring and secured it down her corset. Her pulse quickened. What if the police waited at the end of the corridor to interrogate her until she confessed? Impossible. No one had followed her in.

The little man turned. Don’t worry. Our gentlemen have signed contracts not to harm. All gentle play. Your master knows this is your first time.

Master? What had she gotten herself into? They entered a parlor, or rather an extension of the dungeon. Floggers, whips, shackles, and other items straight out of the Spanish Inquisition lay on display. Behind closed doors, the sound of whips and accompanying cries shattered her nerves. She clutched her trembling hands. What is this place?

A big-breasted woman put down her opium pipe and approached. The little man bowed to her. Madam Athena, this is the new girl, Lottie. The woman dressed in a black leather corset, skirt and boots leaned in and whispered, Good alias, Lady Preston.

Lady? What would a proper lady be doing in a depraved brothel?

Madam Athena touched Julia’s fine gown. Quite nice, love. Modest. Innocent looking, eh? She tilted her head. You look different. I could have sworn you were taller.

I wore higher heels then, Julia whispered lest she telegraph clues she was an imposter. As soon as possible, she would find an exit and flee. But to where? Julia had no family or close friends. And certainly no means to travel to Lyme Regis and meet with William’s solicitor.

Mistress Athena laughed. You look so confused, dear. I don’t remember, did I tell you the game?

Julia swallowed and shook her head. No. Not yet.

Athena’s eyes appeared glazed, under the hypnotic effects of opium. Listen then. A stable hand will mount you. When the master arrives, he will order you both to strip.

Mount me? Stripped? Julia gaped.

Athena continued, While baring your flesh, you must beg him to let you go to the ball as promised. He will then command the groom to spank you while he watches. Master R. is a voyeur, and as soon as he’s done with himself, the game will end. She leaned in and chuckled. At least you don’t have to serve the needs of Lord Beast. I heard he’s in an especially foul mood today.

Julia blushed. Not minutes ago, she’d found her husband stabbed, confronted his killer, ran from the police, and now asked to play a twisted, wicked game in some horrible house of ill repute. What more could she endure? Yet, pretending for now bought her time to think. If she could think under such immoral conditions. She lifted her chin. Sounds simple enough.

He awaits you behind the green door. Go down the hall and after you see our dungeon guard, turn left.

Julia nodded and hastily headed down the hall. Her rapid breathing and tight corset would surely cause a faint if she didn’t calm down. Julia slowed her pace and pressed her hand on her chest. She avoided eye contact with the dungeon guard then turned left, passed the green door, and scampered down the corridor. There must be another exit.

Behind her, the madam shouted, What is the meaning of this?

Police, ma’am. We are looking for a murderess.

Julia covered her mouth and froze. They believed Stellan. She recalled the public hanging of a grocer, Elizabeth Martha Brown, four years ago. Found guilty of her husband’s murder, even though she claimed it was in self-defense. Regardless, she was brought to the gallows. The papers had sensationalized the graphic detail of her slow death. Would she too, hang?

Well, you’ve come to the wrong place! The madam argued. And anyway, you don’t look like investigators to me.

One of the men growled. A bobby is on his way.

So, the men were not the police. No doubt, Stellan’s accomplices. Is his intention to capture me and not turn me in? A fate equally as bad as facing the gallows.

Another man, perhaps the dungeon guard said, When he shows, we’ll answer questions.

Good, that gives me time. Julia tiptoed further down the corridor. Oh, no! The hallway ended with a brick wall. No exit. Should she take her chances and go to the green door? Further down the hall, a red door drew her attention. Maybe it was empty. Her hand trembled over the knob of the red door. It was games with a stranger, or the police. With no other alternative, she slipped in and closed it.

Julia held her breath and pressed her head against the door, straining to hear.

Who the hell are you? a menacing, deep masculine voice said.

Julia jumped and turned. A tall, broad-shouldered man towered over her, at least a foot taller, his face hidden behind a black mask covering everything down to his upper lip. Yet, even in the dim light, his eyes were the deepest blue, sapphire. He wore a white shirt, dark pants, and tall, black Hessian boots. His dark hair was uncombed and wild, seemingly more beast than man. She imagined the mask covered a scarred face or that of a beast. Her eyes dragged to his hand that held a long whip. He raised and snapped it, only an inch from her shoulder.

She flinched as if the whip had struck her. I…I… She clutched a clammy hand to her throat. The devil in front of the roaring fireplace stalked toward her as the room spun, then faded to blackness.

Lord Alexander Stokes despised bedlam. Discipline and control had kept him and his men alive during battle. As an agent of the Crown, his life required order. Now something had gone astray. Where the bloody hell was Constance? His usual naughty partner was now twenty minutes late. Instead, a young woman dressed as if she were going to a gala had bolted through the door. Not the game he planned. He picked up the unconscious woman and set her on the bed. Obviously, she was not pretending and her fear genuine.

Alexander gently patted her cheeks. Humph! Why was he playing nursemaid to some young woman who didn’t belong here? Or at least, not with him. He should drag her out and drop her at Athena’s feet. Or rather, kiss Athena’s feet, since this young, beautiful woman captivated him. He unpinned her long, luscious, golden-brown hair, and sniffed it. Alexander stilled, enchanted by her beauty. Her puckered, heart-shaped lips reminded him of a beloved childhood friend, a girl he once loved and lost. His gaze moved to her shapely cleavage, then her narrow waist and arms. Mesmerized by her exquisite wrists, as delicate as a dragonfly’s wing, he trailed a finger along her arm. Her skin was alabaster, like a porcelain cup, yet soft as silk. She was petite, more fae than woman. He was pleased Constance had missed their assignation.

Alexander pulled up her gown and stared at her svelte legs beneath light blue stockings. God, she was striking. The type of woman his friends in the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood painted. He bent and kissed her luscious lips. How and why did such a gift land in his lap? He lifted her limp wrist and shackled it to the leather cuff on the bedpost. She stirred but remained unconscious. He licked his lower lip and cuffed her second wrist, rendering her helpless. He raised a brow. Was this a game? No, Athena would not dare send him a new girl without his approval. This woman had fainted as if she’d seen a monster. She had, but nonetheless, he wondered how a neophyte landed in his room. Alexander raked back his disheveled hair. Constance, desired him to dress like a pirate.

Alexander cracked his knuckles. Was she a member of the Dark Eros club? If not, how else did she get in? If she wasn’t a member…guilt washed over him. What had he done by shackling a proper English woman? He had no choice. She might run, and he couldn't have that. Not before he learned why she was thrust into his life and stirred his black heart.

His breath hitched as he leaned in to kiss her beautifully formed breasts. Alexander smoothed a finger within the swell of her cleavage. Huh? A ring. He removed the band and studied it. Gold adorned with diamonds. The woman was married and rich, not a surprise. Most of the women who came to the club were bored, wealthy women who craved sensual and wicked games.

Alexander lifted a brow. This one looked so innocent. She had entered the wrong room. Ah, but he wanted her. He sat and watched her. Her wrists tied to the post. His shaft hardened to the point of agony. Yet, unlike some of the frequent members of the exclusive Dark Eros club, he did not favor making love to a corpse.

She stirred back to consciousness. Alexander held his breath.

Her gaze darting around, she gasped and pulled against her restraints. What are you doing?

Alexander enjoyed the contrast of her delicate wrists against the harsh leather cuffs. A small falcon bound with jesses. I was about to ask you the same question.

Footsteps pounded down the hall. Doors opened. Men arguing. Doors slammed.

She gasped and her eyes grew wide, pleading like a fox hiding from the hounds.

Three loud knocks drummed on the door. Alexander covered her mouth and growled at the people outside his room. I’m busy.

Your lordship, the police want to talk to you.

Why?

Begging your pardon, sir, we need to ask if you’ve seen a young woman, said a man he did not recognize.

Madam Athena spoke through the door. Sir, a young lady posing as one of our clients might be in the building.

Alexander narrowed his eyes at his captive woman and signaled her to remain quiet. She gave a quick nod. He covered her eyes with a blindfold and threw a fur over her body. Don’t move. He walked to the door and opened it a crack. His tone menacing, he said, You are disturbing us.

The policeman peeked in. Sorry, sir. He gulped. You’re not hurting the lass are you, sir? Alexander glowered at the men behind the bobby. They wore low quality coats, shabby actually, their faces scarred and pockmarked. Hmm. They were thugs posing as investigators. This young woman was in dire trouble.

Alexander turned to the woman. Am I hurting you?

She turned her head toward his voice. No, it’s…a game.

Alexander rolled his eyes. Not a convincing answer.

The bald, thug-like investigator behind the bobby glared at him. We are looking for Mrs. Julia Foxworth in connection with the stabbing murder of her husband.

Julia? His heart raced. What a bloody coincidence. His Julia had been dead for over eleven years. Alexander stepped out of the chamber and closed the door behind him. What does this have to do with me?

His masked face, imposing height and fierce, commanding voice made all quake. Perhaps sensing what his real duties were to the Crown, the men stepped back. The bobby spoke, Nothing, sir. Several people saw Mrs. Foxworth head this way and the Madame says a woman fitting her description vanished in this direction.

Describe her.

She is in her twenties, five foot four inches and has brown hair and brown eyes. She is of slender build and wore a blue evening gown.

Alexander shook his head. No, I’m afraid I have not seen her.

The bobby nodded. Very well, sir, sorry to have bothered you.

See that you don’t do it again, or I’ll have you fired.

Alexander returned to the room and waited, listening. He sighed. Good, looks like they have gone. He removed her blindfold and smiled. So, now that the hounds are hunting elsewhere, my pretty little fox is safe.

She yanked on the shackles. Release me.

Don’t pull too hard. You’ll bruise your skin.

She pulled even harder. Let me go.

Now, now. We have some things to sort out.

Surely, you must realize I’m not a prostitute.

I’m well aware you are not a prostitute, but rather, a murderess.

I’m not a murderess. I’ve been falsely accused. The man who murdered my husband is his nephew, Stellan Boyd. He framed me.

So why run away? He cracked his knuckles.

She cocked her head at the sound but met his eyes. Stellan stained my gloves with my husband’s blood. I ran to get the police. Before I could, he screamed for help, yelling that I murdered my husband. I panicked and ran.

Alexander sat at the edge of the bed. Now why should I believe you and not alert the police, Julia? His chest tightened. He had vowed never to utter the name, so painful was her loss.

Julia reddened and spat, Because I’m innocent!

He fingered away a loose hair from her brow. Did you love your husband?

Julia flinched from his touch. Of course, I did. Not like… She turned her face. We were the best of friends and collaborated in studies of natural science. She rattled on how he was a valued member of the Linnean Society and of their upcoming banquet.

The woman had loved her husband, but in her eyes, he saw it had not been passionate love, but one of friendship. This pleased him for some reason. Alexander smiled. How did a bluestocking end up in my private den, especially one so beautiful?

Julia sighed. Not by choice, I assure you. I’m sure you’ll get a nice reward and be done with me.

Alexander laughed. Reward? He grabbed her chin and then smoothed his thumb over her perky, kissable lower lip. I’m one of the wealthiest men in Great Britain. The reward means nothing. I’m sure it is less than a week’s worth of food for my wolfhound.

Julia shot him an angry glare. Shameful that one so rich would rather feed a dog than the poor starving orphans that haunt our London streets.

Madam, rest assured, my charitable foundation pays the expenses of several orphanages. He released her. Maybe the reward would feed several street urchins for a year. He scoffed. Nothing worse than a self-righteous murderess.

Julia averted her gaze, and her voice lost its fire. Fine, then take me to the police.

Alexander rubbed his knuckle against her cheek. Perhaps...

Another knock on the door infuriated him. More surprises! He twisted around. What now!

Master, I’m sorry I’m late.

Alexander pressed a finger to his lips and went to the door. Constance, leave!

Please, master. I only want you.

I said go!

Please, master, for how long? You promised to bring me to your castle again. The duke will be gone for three weeks.

Alexander stepped out and shut the door, his tone harsh. I never want to see you again.

The slender attractive blonde knelt, her head down and her hair unpinned the way he preferred it. I’m sorry I was late, master. It will never happen again.

He whispered, Go back to your former master Maric or be assured I will tell your husband.

Then tell him. I can’t live without you, she pleaded.

Before she said anymore, Alexander returned to the room and slammed the door shut. He pounded his fist against it. Obey me and leave.

Constance wailed and then whimpered by the door.

Another man slammed his door open and said, Hush, woman!

Constance said, I’ll go. But I promise to return.

Alexander turned to his prisoner, his fists on his hips. Lower your gaze!

Julia pursed her lips, her gaze raking him from head to foot. You ape.

She dared call him an ape. For that, he should turn her over his knees. Silence. He lifted a brow until she lowered her eyes.

I refuse to give you what your prostitute can, she whispered.

Constance is not a prostitute, but a duchess. Her husband is a duke, and she has been a secret member of the Dark Eros club for years.

Really?

Damn it, did he need another bloody complication in his life? Yet, she was the same age his Julia would have been had she lived. He might be her only chance to prove her innocence. He softened his tone. Julia, let me offer you a compromise.

"What on earth do you mean?

Allow me to clear your name of your husband’s murder.

Julia narrowed her eyes. Why would you do that?

Because, my dear Mrs. Foxworth, I would get something in return.

What can I offer? Since you’re so rich, I’m sure I could only pay you a small amount. Though we have an extensive collection of fossils and…

Alexander cocked his head. Fossils? What would I do with fossils? His heart ached. His Julia once collected fossils near the seashore. In a box of his treasured possessions were the odd fossil ammonites she gifted him for his thirteenth birthday. Was that why he wanted this strange but beautiful woman? A replacement for his dear Julia. No one would ever replace her. He stiffened. His tone hardened. You must agree to be my chattel for a year. At the end of your tenure, either my investigation will clear you of murder or I will see to it that you escape to America or elsewhere. Your choice. Or maybe stay with me forever. Damn it, she was not his Julia.

Julia shuddered as if she were an animal caught in a trap. Your property for a year? Her amber eyes blazed. His Julia’s eyes. What, pray tell, will that entail?

He winked. I’m sure something we can both agree on.

She glanced at her shackled wrists and