Broken Angel Read online

  1Broken Angel

  a Heart of the Blessed novel

  ~**~

  Broken Angel | a Heart of the Blessed novel

  By Nona Mae King

  Published by Nona King [Angel Breath Books]

  Smashwords Edition

  2016 - First Printing

  The Library of Congress Copyright Office

  Registration Number: TXu 1-980-649

  Discover other titles by Nona Mae King at Smashwords.com:

  Fantasy:

  To Save A Soul

  Fantasy Romance:

  My Fair Princess

  The Story

  Romance:

  Heart of the Blessed:

  Searching for Sara

  Releasing Yesterday

  Broken Angel

  FanFiction:

  Mists of Destiny

  The Terra Saga

  A Rose By Any Other Name

  The Bookworms and Booya! series

  The Reluctant Knight

  Few Words

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

  ~**~

  Dedicated to

  Lynna Mae Kreyssler Johnson. I miss you, Mamma.

  May 9, 1946 ~ December 14, 2014

  ~**~

  The Beatitudes

  Blessed are the poor in spirit,

  For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

  Blessed are those who mourn,

  For they shall be comforted.

  Blessed are the meek,

  For they shall inherit the earth.

  Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,

  For they shall be filled.

  Blessed are the merciful,

  For they shall obtain mercy.

  Blessed are the pure in heart,

  For they shall see God.

  Blessed are the peacemakers,

  For they shall be called sons of God.

  Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake,

  For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

  - Matthew 5:3-10 (NKJV)

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 – The Attraction of ‘Not So Proper’

  Chapter 2 – Perspectives

  Chapter 3 – A Preferred Stranger

  Chapter 4 – Tortures Past

  Chapter 5 – To Tortures Present

  Chapter 6 – Green Eyes

  Chapter 7 – Untitled Passions

  Chapter 8 – Wrong Questions

  Chapter 9 – Inviting Rachel

  Chapter 10 – A Lady of Letters

  Chapter 11 – Dedications to Truth

  Chapter 12 – Engagements

  Chapter 13 – Summoning Angel

  Chapter 14 – Mirrors

  Chapter 15 – Secondary Confessions

  Chapter 16 – The Pot & The Kettle

  Chapter 17 – Frayed Cords

  Chapter 18 – Daddy’s Girl

  Epilogue – The Final Verse

  One

  The Attraction of ‘Not So Proper’

  “Rachel, darling, you must say hello to Mr. Traxin.”

  The click of carriages passing outside on the cobbled avenue faded from Rachel’s focus. Slender fingers tightened around her silk and bamboo fan. Humanity stood on the dawn of the 20th century, and yet she could not step beyond the necessity of social climbing through flirtation. The fact scraped across her calm as sandpaper as she shifted from the open balcony doors and the soothing caress of the garden breeze. Dressed in garish gold satin, her hostess glittered from head to toe, resplendent in gems and a glass-like smile. Mr. Traxin fared little better, his expression bright with an over-eager desire to impress. He stood as the fourteenth gentleman to whom she “must say hello.”

  “Willard Traxin, may I introduce to you Miss Rachel Samson.” Lynette’s countenance glowed, brunette curls dancing in celebration of what she deemed the perfect match. Introductions spoken, the woman excused herself before Rachel had a moment to protest.

  Annoyance stretched Rachel’s lips into a line as Lynette’s slight form melded into the crowd. Above all else, Rachel wished the locomotive bound for her father’s estate had already whisked her from these social obligations in the City. Surrounded by those who considered status and wealth a right rather than a responsibility, her patience wore thin.

  “Miss Samson, I heard you must away on the morrow. Must you venture to the wilds of Oregon so soon? We have only just been graced with your presence!”

  “Oh no, Mr. Traxin. Not Oregon.” Countenance and voice as calm as silk, her fingers pressed their hold of her fan to elicit the whisper of a crack. “I go to Boston,” she corrected for the countless time that evening.

  “What is in Boston, pray?”

  “Our family estate.”

  “Truly?” Mr. Traxin’s limpid gaze still did not glitter with anything but feigned understanding and interest. “Then, my dear, why ever would you be onto Oregon at all? If you had any sense in that lovely head of yours, you would stay in Boston. But I am more than willing to visit you in the wilds.”

  Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose to keep her faltering hold of her temper in check. “Mr. Traxin, I suddenly feel ill.”

  “Oh, my dear.”

  She turned aside his touch, dipping into a slight curtsy before maneuvering through the cliques of people near the southern entrance into the garden. The cool breeze soothed away the oppression of stagnating wealth, easily refreshing her calm. The need to feign illness for a moment’s reflective quiet would forever spark her temper, although she knew the alternative of letting fly a cutting remark or her usual dry wit was simply not allowed. The status of the Traxin family obligated her to a positive advertisement of the Samson name.

  “Rachel? Rachel Samson?”

  Her fan paused as emerald eyes adjusted to the evening darkness. “Lucy?” she queried the familiar figure approaching from behind. “Is that you?”

  Dark eyes twinkled within an exquisite heart-shaped, pale face as Lucinda Bond enfolded Rachel into an embrace. She kissed each cheek. “I heard a rumor you were at this horrid party, but I could not make myself believe such a tale. You viewed them as the very plague while at school!”

  “Indeed, and that viewpoint is still upheld.” Rachel accepted Lucy’s arm for a turn around the garden path. “A conversation with you will be a breath of fresh air after the multitude of conversations thus far. They have scarcely tickled my interest. While I was sorely tempted to refuse all invitations, I tasked myself with choosing the one which could sow the most benefit.”

  Lucy giggled. “Dearest, Rachel. Business to the end.”

  Rachel allowed a smile, grateful that Lucy remained as one of the few who could still amuse her.

  “Have you heard from your father?” Lucy queried as they continued down the stone path.

  “I have heard nothing since Mother’s passing.” Three years without even a cable? If she had behaved as badly toward someone of equal stature, her father would have fumed at her for days without end.

  “So odd. Have you sent a cable?”

  “No.”

  Lucy gaped at her, dark eyes glit
tering in bewilderment. “Rachel Samson! Should you not let him know you have arrived safely ashore? That you are on your way home?”

  “If it mattered one way or the other, he would have contacted me.”

  Lucy’s arm tightened. “I pray that isn’t true.”

  “Why should it not? You know he wouldn’t allow my return even for Mother’s funeral.” A fact which still grated at her very soul.

  “He must have his reasons, Rachel. I remember those first letters from him–”

  “Lucy.”

  She sighed. “I wish I could go home with you, Rachel.”

  “Unnecessary. This first meeting with my father is the final test. If I cannot face him, I have learned nothing of independence and assertion and will be unsuitable to act as his heir.”

  “‘Heir.’” Lucy wrinkled her nose. “It doesn’t sound right.”

  Rachel’s eyebrows dipped and she released Lucy’s arm. “Dear Lord, Lucy. Why does everyone suppose we are truly the lesser sex?”

  “Oh, no, I didn’t mean that at all,” Lucy protested. “I only wish you had someone to help you. A friend who understands and supports you. There is nothing wrong with an ally is there?”

  Rachel’s eyebrow shifted upward, but she did not lift her gaze.

  Lucy once more took hold of Rachel’s arm. “When do you leave?”

  “For home? Tomorrow morning.”

  “You have wanted to return home for such a very long time,” Lucy observed softly. “I hope it is all you wanted, and more.”

  “Thank you.” Though what she wanted and what she could realistically expect were a jumbled mess of ideas, memories, and suppositions.

  Rachel discerned the approach of two men moments before she noticed their shadowed silhouettes. “Lucy, let us make our excuses and escape this party. I spied a middle-class eating establishment of ‘questionable reputation’ on my way and would much rather–”

  “Rachel, I can’t. I came with someone.”

  The rising blush to Lucy’s cheeks confessed all. “Ah. Peter,” Rachel observed. Blessed with waves of dark hair and piercing gray eyes, girls by the score had swooned at the mere mention of his name. But his eyes had always strayed to the innocent loveliness of Lucy Bond.

  Rachel glanced away. The men drew closer, talking amongst themselves and sharing the occasional bout of laughter. Rachel knew she hadn’t yet had time enough to gather a reliable calm, and a spark of temper would negate the hard work she had invested this week in cultivating the reputation of the Samson name.

  Rachel noticed Lucy’s glance toward her and then the approaching men, but before Lucy could pose the question, the men ceased their private conversation. As they drew parallel, the men nodded a passing greeting, their identities hidden in shadow as they moved on without comment—for only a moment. Before Rachel could even release a breath of relief, she heard the dreaded words “Rob, she was exquisite. Go introduce yourself.”

  Rachel stiffened. Good God. Can I never escape the prison of my “exquisite” countenance? Already worn thin, she felt her patience beginning to fray.

  “I will do no such thing,” the other gentleman informed. “My last intention this evening was to bother lovely ladies.”

  “Are you daft? I have never before seen anyone so entrancing!” the other man pressed. His voice faint now.

  “You still haven’t, old man. Her face was mostly in shadow.”

  “I saw enough to know she was a vision,” he protested.

  “A vision?” There was a pause. “Perhaps.”

  Their discussion faded, and Rachel reluctantly laughed. “I would thank that gentleman for saving me the exhausting duty of entertaining him and his friend, but that would mean a conversation. I have suffered enough of those to last two lifetimes.”

  Lucy giggled. “Rachel Samson. Surely this evening has not been as awful as that?”

  Rachel caressed the cool breeze with her fan. “You’ve no idea the tortures withstood this evening, Lucy. Conversations of balls, fashion, and society have nearly bored me to tears. Had I seen you and Peter, I would have made my way to your side on pain of death.”

  Once more Lucy giggled with an “Dearest, Rachel.” Then she voiced a gasp and turned to gather both of Rachel’s hands in hers. “Rachel, dear, please say you will be persuaded to come and visit me sometime soon? Peter and I….” Lucy flushed and lowered her gaze.

  “So, he has finally proposed.”

  Laughing, Lucy’s eyes met and held Rachel’s, a trait of straightforward honesty Rachel always admired. “You mustn’t say it as if it’s a curse. I love him and he loves me. Why shouldn’t we be happy together as man and wife?”

  Man and wife. It sounds as if one is saying “Master and servant.” Aloud, she offered, “Best wishes to you both, Lucy, but I don’t believe I shall be able to visit for quite a time. I haven’t any idea what my plans shall be once I arrive home.”

  “Will you try? I would so like for you to be my maid of honor.”

  Rachel’s slight smile warmed to one more genuine. “Thank you, Lucy. I will try.”

  Lucy’s face shone as she giggled. “It’s all so exciting, Rachel, and you should see Peter. He has a bit of a dazed expression at times. If I didn’t know better, I would believe that he didn’t expect me to accept.”

  “Then certainly you must return to him, Lucy.” Rachel gave Lucy’s hand a pat before she motioned back toward the house. “I need some time to myself, and I don’t wish to contribute to his loneliness.”

  Lucy gave Rachel’s hands a fond squeeze. “Dearest, Rachel, you can be so silly at times.” The young woman enfolded Rachel into an impetuous embrace, not seeming to notice the stiff uncertainty of Rachel’s acceptance. “It was nice to see you, dearest, and I pray your meeting with your father goes well.” She pulled back and smiled. “God bless you, Rachel.”

  “Thank you, Lucy.”

  Lucy gave Rachel’s hands one last squeeze before returning to the house. Rachel watched her go, turning away after Lucy’s silver gown had faded from sight. “Your meeting with your father….” She pressed her lips together as she moved forward, her fan caressing the air around her. She didn’t know what to expect, and that feeling was far from acceptable. I suppose I shouldn’t worry, for that changes nothing and proves less.

  Rachel’s brow furrowed. Her own abilities and accomplishments seemed to prove as little, especially when viewed in direct comparison with Mr. Traxin’s advances. 1886! This is 1886 and I’m still surrounded by such backward thinking as women being worth nothing more than the ability to bear children and give men pleasure! How am I to battle against such thinking? She refused to believe her father had purposefully set her up to fail.

  “Watch your step.”

  Her gaze shot to a tall, shadowed figure leaning against the trunk of some type of tree. “Excuse me?”

  The shadow shifted somewhat, and an arm emerged clothed in black with opal cufflinks and immaculate white shirt-cuffs. The manicured nails indicated a raised tree root a scant six inches from where she now stood.

  Rachel moved her gaze back to the figure, unable to gauge his expression or intent due to the shadows hiding his face. “I thank you, sir, for the warning.”

  “You’re quite welcome.” His voice sounded rich and full, nearly as low as that of a bass in a church choir from memories past. “The host should have taken greater care with the lighting of these paths. My friend nearly took a tumble twice.”

  Her lips tilted upward. “Is that why you now lurk alone?”

  The shadow chuckled and stepped forward, a great portion of his face remaining in the cover of darkness. “It only seems I lurk. I simply relished the silence before again braving the nest.”

  Rachel hid her widening smile behind her fan with a graceful flick of her wrist. “You don’t care for parties, sir?”

  “When one’s wealth is flaunted? No.”

  Thank God. “I suppose the flaunting is, in itself, a sport to them.” Rachel scoffe
d softly and looked away toward the bright glow of the house’s lights. “A waste of time and energy.”

  “Indeed,” was all the gentleman offered in reply.

  In fact, after this single statement the gentleman remained quiet. He didn’t comment on the chill of the evening, the amount of stars in the sky, or how she supposedly “rivaled Aphrodite herself”. The silence was a blissful change and invited a rather deep sigh from Rachel as she closed her eyes and drank it in. Why she didn’t move on, she couldn’t say. Why the gentleman didn’t speak, she couldn’t suppose. But the silence was welcome.

  Then, to Rachel’s further shock, he simply observed, “It seems you have need of solitude and silence, Miss, and into this I have no wish to intrude.” When Rachel faced him again, he bowed, offering, “Good evening, Miss,” before continuing down the walk, hands within the pockets of his trousers as he whistled a simple tune.

  Rachel arched an eyebrow as she watched him, surprised and relieved that he hadn’t taken it upon himself to fill her supposed boredom. Lynette would have been horrified at the missed opportunity for fluttering lashes and pouting lips. Rachel’s very nearly laughed aloud. Thank you, sir.

  “So this is where you’ve been hiding!”

  Expression now blank, Rachel once more gathered her cooled calm firmly into hand before facing Lynette’s approaching figure. How much more of this must I endure? But the clock pendent pinned to her bodice showed it only just shy of eleven, meaning a further attendance of at least one hour would be necessary for appearances.

  Sighing, Rachel forced a slight smile. “I apologize, Lynette. I felt a moment’s illness and had to retreat.”

  Lynette tucked Rachel’s arm forcefully around her own before turning and leading the way back to the party. “Oh dear, not ill! Daddy will be horrified. You simply must stay with us this evening! Rest and recoup before leaving for Oregon.”