Beauty So Rare (A Belmont Mansion Novel Book #2) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Tamera Alexander

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295 pages

English

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Pink is not what Eleanor Braddock ordered, but maybe it would soften the tempered steel of a woman who came through a war--and still had one to fight. Plain, practical Eleanor Braddock knows she will never marry, but with a dying soldier's last whisper, she believes her life can still have meaning and determines to find his widow. Impoverished and struggling to care for her ailing father, Eleanor arrives at Belmont Mansion, home of her aunt, Adelicia Acklen, the richest woman in America--and possibly the most demanding, as well. Adelicia insists on finding her niece a husband, but a simple act of kindness leads Eleanor down a far different path--building a home for destitute widows and fatherless children from the Civil War. While Eleanor knows her own heart, she also knows her aunt will never approve of this endeavor.Archduke Marcus Gottfried has come to Nashville from Austria in search of a life he determines, instead of one determined for him. Hiding his royal heritage, Marcus longs to combine his passion for nature with his expertise in architecture, but his plans to incorporate natural beauty into the design of the widows' and children's home run contrary to Eleanor's wishes. As work on the home draws them closer together, Marcus and Eleanor find common ground--and a love neither of them expects. But Marcus is not the man Adelicia has chosen for Eleanor, and even if he were, someone who knows his secrets is about to reveal them all.From USA Today bestselling author Tamera Alexander comes a moving historical novel about a bold young woman drawn to a group of people forgotten by Nashville society--and to the one man with whom she has no business falling in love.

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Historical fiction

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Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	25 mars 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781441263490
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0432€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

© 2014 by Tamera Alexander
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www . bakerpublishinggroup . com
Ebook edition created 2014
Ebook corrections 07.01.2014, 10.14.2016
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4412-6349-0
Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, King James Version.
This is a work of historical reconstruction; the appearances of certain historical figures are therefore inevitable. All other characters, however, are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Cover design by Jennifer Parker
Cover photography by Mike Habermann Photography, LLC
Author represented by The Natasha Kern Literary Agency
Praise for Tamera’s Novels
“To put it simply: This book is a full-on HIT.”
— USA Today about A Lasting Impression
“Tamera Alexander has once again written a novel rich in storytelling and history, peopled with living, breathing characters who made me laugh, and cry. Better than sweet tea on a veranda, A Lasting Impression is a winner. I want to live at Belmont!”
—Francine Rivers, New York Times best-selling author of Redeeming Love , about A Lasting Impression
“ Tamera Alexander crafts a pleasing and well-written romance that is filled with adventure and intrigue. Subtly weaving in the main character’s steadfast faith in God, the book is full of faith and full of life. Readers who enjoy romantic novels but also want to feel inspired will definitely enjoy this satisfying read.”
— Publishers Weekly about Within My Heart
“Tamera Alexander paints vivid scenes, not with oils on canvas but with words on the page, as she sweeps us away to the cafés of New Orleans and the hills of Tennessee. In Claire Laurent we find a true artist, ever doubting her talents, ever questioning her calling. And in Sutton Monroe we meet a hero whose bright mind is eclipsed only by his tender heart. A lovely story, sure to please anyone who treasures a good romance.”
—Liz Curtis Higgs, New York Times bestselling author of Mine Is the Night, about A Lasting Impression
“ Rich in period details and set in Nashville’s historic Belmont Mansion, this historical romance by RITA and Christy Award winner Alexander is a sure bet . . .”
— Library Journal Review about A Lasting Impression
For my readers, who not only take these journeys with me, but who add such joy and beauty to my own.
“It is only with the heart that one can see clearly, for the most essential things are invisible to the eye.”
—Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Praise for Tamera ’s Novels
Dedication
Epigraph
Preface
Prologue
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Discussion Questions
Dear Reader
With Gratitude to . . .
About the Author
Books by Tamera Alexander
Back Ads
Back Cover
Preface
M ost of the novel you’re about to read is fictional, though there is plenty of real history and people woven throughout. For instance, there really is a Belmont Mansion in Nashville, built in 1853, that still stands today and that welcomes your visit. And Mrs. Adelicia Acklen, a character in the novel, is the dynamic, born-before-her-time woman who lived there.
In addition to Adelicia Acklen, many of the other characters in the novel were inspired by real people who lived during that time—people who lived and worked at Belmont. But the characters’ personalities and actions as depicted in this story are of my own imagination and should be construed as such.
The first time I stepped across the threshold of Belmont Mansion and learned about Adelicia and her extraordinary personality and life, I knew I wanted to write stories that included her, her magnificent Belmont estate, and this crucial time in our nation’s history. I invite you to join me as we open the door to history once again and step into another time and place.
Thank you for entrusting your time to me. It’s a weighty investment, one I treasure, and that I never take for granted.
Tamera
Prologue
D ECEMBER 15, 1864 A C ONFEDERATE FIELD HOSPITAL SOME DISTANCE FROM THE LINE OF BATTLE N ASHVILLE , T ENNESSEE
E leanor Braddock startled when the soldier grabbed her hand, his grip surprisingly strong, his palm slicked with blood, sweat, and war. With eyes clenched tight, he held on to her as though she were the last person on earth. Which for him . . . she was.
From habit, she searched the left pocket of the soldier’s uniform for his name, but the material—bloodied gray and soaked clean through—had been ripped to shreds by a cannon blast, much like the rest of him. She was grateful he’d been unconscious moments earlier when the surgeon examined him. He’d been spared the brusque shake of the doctor’s head.
“Nurse . . .”
His gaze sought hers, and against the distant barrage of rifle and cannon fire, Eleanor steeled herself for the question she knew was forthcoming. No matter how many times she was forced to answer, it never got any easier to tell a man he was about to die.
And neither did watching it happen.
“Yes?” she said softly, not bothering to correct his misassumption about her medical training, or lack thereof.
“Could you tell me—” He coughed, and his bearded chin shook from the cold or pain, likely both. A gurgling sound bubbled up inside his throat. “Did we . . . take the hill?”
Surprised that he asked of the battle and not his life, and touched by the strained hope behind his query, a tender knot formed in Eleanor’s throat. “Yes,” she answered without hesitation, having not the least clue which army held the upper hand in the battle. All she knew was that countless men—fathers, sons, husbands . . . brothers —were being slaughtered a short distance away. And this man deserved to die with a semblance of peace, believing that his life had counted for something. “Yes . . . you did.” She tried to smile. “And General Lee will be so pleased.”
Traces of pride but mostly relief shone in the soldier’s eyes before they drifted shut. He fought for breath, each one exacting a price, and she prayed that his struggle would soon cease. But she’d seen men with similar wounds linger for hours, drifting in and out of agony.
He was no mere youth—into his thirties, at least—and his feet overhung the cot by several inches. Both boots were worn clean through at the toe. She’d detected the hint of a brogue in his voice, an accent from far away, something she’d always admired.
She studied him, wondering what his life had been like before the war, and how he’d come to be on a bleak battlefield in the middle of Tennessee. His cheekbones were especially prominent, and she wished she had some of the beef tea she’d made for the men last evening, as she did nearly every night. No matter that she watered it down to stretch as far as possible, the men always made quick work of it. “We ain’t tasted nothin’ this good in months,” they’d say, draining their cups.
She’d always enjoyed cooking, but seeing her patients eat, even that little bit, did her heart good in ways she couldn’t have imagined before serving injured and dying men.
She shifted her weight, and the soldier’s grip tightened.
He grimaced and clenched his jaw, moaning, as though determined not to cry out like the others.
Empty bottles of laudanum on a nearby table caught her eye. She wished she had something to give him, but the last of the pain medication, including the morphine, chloroform, and ether, had been administered that morning, prior to them learning that the expected shipment of medical supplies wouldn’t be arriving—thanks to the Federal Army.
She could make sense of the interception of ammunition and currency, or even provisions—but medical supplies? Even war should have certain rules.
Cannon fire thundered in the distance, and an icy wind knifed the canvased confines of the hospital tent. The moans and cries of the wounded and dying rent the air, and Eleanor shivered against the chill of it all. Though it was absurd, she was certain she could feel the earth groaning, straining beneath her feet, wondering, as she did, how much longer this insanity could continue. Surely, this was what hell was like. . . .
And yet, as she thought of the dark calamity of madness occurring just over the hill, she knew she’d only seen the outskirts of hell in these tents.
How had she lived for twenty-six years without realizing how precious and fragile life was? And how tenuous its peace. She’d never considered whether she’d squandered her life to that point. But when contrasting the experiences of her whole life with what she’d seen and done in recent months . . . squandered seemed a painfully appropriate term.
Her focus moved down the row of soldiers lining both sides of the tent. How many more would die before the two sides determined enough blood had been spilled?
When she’d first read the advertisement in the Murfreesboro newspaper soliciting “plain-looking women between the ages of 35 and 50” to volunteer in field hospitals and surgical tents, she’d wondered whether her age would prevent them from accepting her. But with the need for volunteers so great—and the first requirement met without a doubt—she’d quickly been accepted.
The only other point that had drawn a rais