Prologue

The mid-October day was unseasonably warm for this time of the year. Bree Rivers sat in the parlor of her family home with a window propped open, allowing the breeze from the garden to waft into the room. She sat holding her tiny hand-painted teacup that rested on a dainty gold-rimmed saucer. The smell of lilacs and ginger tea filled the air around her as she browsed sample napkins and doilies for her fast-approaching wedding.

Bree sat in the formal room that typically hosted guests who came to have dinner or that wanted to proposition Mr. Rivers with some sort of business ordeal, but today it was the place where she could enjoy the fresh early autumn breeze with a view of her late father’s favorite rose bushes. The furniture in the room was ornate, with velvet and damask fabrics, and gilded frames.

The walls were decorated with wallpaper and paintings, and a colorful rug covered the floor. In the center of the room was a fireplace made of marble, and surrounded by comfortable chairs. Other furniture in the room included a piano, side tables, and a center table for serving tea or coffee. A bookshelf sat in the corner, with books and other items for guests to enjoy.

Candles provided light and gave off a warm and inviting ambiance. The parlor was often the center of the Rivers’ family life, used for hosting parties and other social events, as well as for simply relaxing and conversing. It was a room of grandeur, a place that symbolized the wealth and status of those who lived in the home.

Bree was an only child, raised by her father, a wealthy businessman and landowner. Mr. Bartholomew Rivers passed in his study at the Rivers Estate back in the spring. It was the evening after a celebration of summer when the roses that Bartholomew prided himself in cultivating each year bloomed. All the guests had just gone home when he went to have a cup of tea and rest on the lounge when he was interrupted by an angry rattlesnake.

She had a deep admiration for her father. He was a man of great character and integrity, and he was respected in the business community and beyond. He was a generous man who always put his family first and was always available to help those who needed it. He was a hard worker who always took great pride in everything he put effort into. His business was thriving and he had many investments in the city. He was a great example to Bree of what a man should be, and the lessons he taught her about life, success, and the importance of always looking for opportunities to help others served her well throughout her life. He was a loving father and a great source of strength and guidance for her. Bree always thought the world of her father, and was proud to be his daughter. Being without him was heartbreaking.

She stared at the intricate paintings that hung in handmade wooden frames on the wall. Her lady’s maid, Bessie, came in with more samples and set them on the table. Bessie’s chocolate brown hair swayed when she walked over to the window and looked outside. Bessie was Bree’s age.

She grew up on a small farm in the Smoky Mountains and moved to Nashville when she was sixteen to begin working at the Rivers Estate. Snarky but kind, her dark brown eyes were always compassionate and she always knew exactly the right thing to say at the right time. Bessie may have been hired to care for and tend to Bree, but Bree had always considered her more of a friend than her maid.

“I wish Father was here to look at all these beautiful colors with me. Every one of them is perfect for an autumn wedding.” Bree dropped the napkins and picked up the stationary. “They’re all so lovely, Bessie. Which one is your favorite?”

Bessie thumbed through the paper pieces. “This is your wedding, Miss. Perhaps you should go ask Mr. Bowman.”

“Men don’t care for this kind of thing.” Bree’s shoulders dropped as she let out a deep breath. The grandfather clock chimed, announcing the noon hour had arrived. Bree scooped up the samples. “Perhaps you are right. William has been so wonderful since Father passed away.” She clutched the samples against her chest as her cheeks burned. “I couldn’t have been more blessed than to find such a perfect match. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind picking out one thing for the wedding.” She giggled but covered her smile quickly.

The summer before, Bree had met William in her father’s study one afternoon just before Mr. Rivers hosted one of his monthly dinner parties. Ever since, she was in love. He always brought her flowers and little chocolate raspberry cakes from the bakery. William was smart and a hard worker, and Mr. Rivers always spoke highly of him to all the upper-class gentlemen around town.

William was every bit as honest and trustworthy as anyone could see in a person. And Bree was smitten. Every time her father announced William would be coming home after work, she would make a fuss about her outfits, and whether to wear her hair up or down.

Bree was in love with William. He was everything she had ever wanted in a man; he was kind, intelligent, and handsome. He was a perfect gentleman and always treated her with respect. He was the perfect mix of strength and sensitivity, and he made her laugh with his hilarious sense of humor. Every time they were together, Bree felt like she was in an enchanted dream.

She knew he was the one she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Whenever she thought of their future together, joy and excitement filled her. Every day she was with him, she was reminded of how lucky she was. She knew he was the one and she couldn’t wait to marry him.

William had grown up in a poor family. His father once worked for Mr. Rivers but was fired for stealing. William’s father had struggled to keep work and provide for his family, but after his wife passed away, things turned for the worse, leading Mr. Bowman to often resort to thievery and eventually murder, which landed him in prison, leaving William to take care of himself.

When William came to Bartholomew Rivers in the hope of a chance, Mr. Rivers was reserved at first, but keen to hire him due to his wit and outgoing personality. Over time, he had proven himself to be a valued asset to the company, and when Bree turned twenty years old, Mr. Rivers had agreed to allow them to court.

Bessie smiled. “Why don’t you take him a plate of brownies? I made some fresh this morning.” As Bree’s lady’s maid, Bree was not only an exceptional worker but also an amazing friend. She was the best cook in the estate and Bree admired her for her culinary skills. Not only did she make delicious meals for the family, but she was also a great listener. Bree could turn to her for advice and comfort and felt incredibly supported by her presence. Bessie was always there to offer her assistance and Bree was thankful for all that she did. She was the best of the best and Bree was so glad to have her by her side.

Bree stepped out to the wraparound front porch and watched squirrels chase each other up the massive oak tree in the front yard. She went to the swing her father built for her when she was a child and sat down. She looked up at the turret on the east side of the manor where her father’s study was. Her eyes filled with tears, but Bree quickly pulled a little yellow handkerchief from her matching satchel and dabbed the corners of her eyes.

The home was a magnificent manor house that stood in the middle of the expansive estate, situated on acres of lush green terrain. The grounds were well-maintained, complete with ponds, flowers, and even a gazebo. The mansion was a magnificent sight, constructed of the best materials available, including marble, wood, and stone. With antique furniture and artwork everywhere, the atmosphere was opulent and majestic. As one of the wealthiest families in the neighborhood, Bree’s family employed a number of employees to maintain the home and land. The estate’s splendor left everyone in the neighborhood in awe. Although they were wealthier than many, Bree was more kind and giving than most, and she never expected any kind of special treatment or gratitude. She only wanted to make Nashville a better place to live.

Bessie came outside with the treats wrapped in a light blue box and a navy blue ribbon. She noticed Bree wiping her eyes. “Find peace in God, Miss Bree. He will always be there to guide you and he never gives you more than you can handle.” She handed Bree the deserts. “Now, you go and have a nice afternoon with Mr. Bowman.”

Bree walked along the streets of Nashville after a rainy day turned to sunshine. She marveled at the way the sunshine glistened off of the puddles and illuminated the city as it had never been seen before. The air smelled of wet asphalt and fresh vegetation, and the birds sang in the trees. Bree felt a sense of peace she had never experienced before and took in the sights and sounds of the city.

She passed old brick buildings, some with ornate façades and some with more modern designs, all with their own unique character. She came across a lively street filled with music and laughter and stopped to take it all in. She noticed a group of young men playing a banjo and singing old folk songs, while people of all ages and backgrounds danced and laughed around them.

Bree smiled and hummed along to the music, feeling the joy of the moment. She continued her journey, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the city, and was filled with a sense of hope and optimism for the future.

In the 1880s, Nashville was a thriving community that was expanding and changing quickly. It served as Tennessee’s capital and the center of the state’s political and economic life. The city’s population was rapidly expanding as new settlers from the eastern United States and other nations arrived. With the popularity of country music in the area, Nashville was home to a bustling music scene. The city’s citizens could buy items and services from the many craftspeople, vendors, and tradespeople lining the streets. Nashville served as a hub for education, with numerous universities and institutions nearby. The city had a large number of churches and other religious institutions, which represented the various religious views of its residents.

It had been raining for days and the dirt roads around Nashville were muddy. The sun had only poked out from the clouds early that morning, and the humidity was stifling. Bree watched the birds hop from rooftop to rooftop of the quaint shops filled with dressmakers, cobblers, bakers, and bankers. She peeked through the window of her father’s business on the corner of the square, hoping to see him come from his office and greet her on the porch. But when that moment never came, she continued on the way to William’s house.

William had worked for Mr. Rivers as his personal secretary. Bree’s father invited William over for business matters often, but Bree would always find William catching a glimpse at her from around the corner or from across the table.

She was smitten and her father was beside himself with joy when they began courting a year ago. Since, William was as much a part of the Rivers family as Bree and Bartholomew. He knew everything about Mr. Rivers, including his daily schedule, his favorite tea, who he spent time with, and what he did when he wasn’t working.

The street where the Bowman home rested was nestled quietly under the shade of maple and willow trees. Children played in the grass and the residents waved hello as Bree passed. William’s house was tall, with a pitched roof that seemed to reach the sky. The front porch was adorned by tall white pillars that invited visitors to the towering red door. She reached for the lion’s head door knocker but stopped when she saw the door was slightly open. Bree pushed it open and stepped one foot inside.

“Hello?” she said quietly. No one answered.

Inside the foyer was an iron bench with a small table on the end with a vase filled with heavily-scented jasmine flowers. She breathed in the euphoric fragrance, then tiptoed down the hardwood floors. Voices drifted down the corridor. Bree stood before the door of William’s office and was startled when she heard a second voice that she did not recognize. Bree clutched the paper color samples tight in her fist and rested her ear on the door. The conversation was muffled in some places but others were as clear as crystal. She set the plate of brownies on the sofa table and got as close as she could to the door without pushing on it and revealing herself.

“She doesn’t suspect a thing.” William’s voice sounded peppy. “I have her wrapped around my finger.”

Bree raised one eyebrow and stepped back until he heard William boom out her name. “Bree Rivers.” The sound of it made her jump. She stepped back up to the door to listen again.

“Once we say ‘I do,’ I will slip her the tonic.” William’s voice turned crude and peevish. “Then at the funeral, I will cry my eyes out and wallow in my grief until the entire city of Nashville thinks I have lost my mind. Once that is done, I will take my despair down to the First Bank of Nashville and I will transfer the entirety of the Rivers fortune into my personal account, then I will take over the company, and not one person will be the wiser.”

Bree’s chest felt as if it had collapsed and her heart sank to her feet. She was horrified to hear him confess that he was planning to murder her. Bree’s heart raced and her stomach churned as she wondered what she should do. She needed to find a way to protect herself, but she was afraid to confront William in case he carried out his threat. She had to find a way to get help without him knowing it was her, or else she might be in grave danger. She needed to find a way to warn the police, but she was scared that if she did, William might find out and retaliate. She was stuck in this terrible situation, and she didn’t know what to do. But the sound of laughter stopped her.

“How did you do it?” the other man’s voice said. “How did you get a rattlesnake in the Rivers Estate that night?”

“Easy.” William’s voice was cold and unwavering. “Earlier that day, I paid my cousin, Chester, the family’s black sheep, to plant a rattlesnake in Bartholomew’s study. Everyone was distracted in the garden, dancing the night away, and as always, right on schedule, Mr. Rivers would go to his study to read before the fire, just as he did every night before bed.”

Bree dropped the wedding samples on the floor and ran from the Bowman residence as fast as her feet would carry. With every footstep, her heart raced faster. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her stomach ached painfully. She had always thought highly of William. His composure, his kindness, and his generosity when donating to Bree’s favorite charities always made her swoon for him. He was to be the perfect husband. She ran down the street until she could no longer see William’s house. She leaned against a light post and clutched her chest. Her blood boiled and her face burned. Numbness consumed her entire body until she leaned over and screamed into her palms.

The man she loved and trusted had murdered her father. Terrible thoughts passed through her mind, but as Bree continued walking, she recited a verse from James 1:20 over and over in her head. “For the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.”

She was devastated thinking about how excited she was to have children and live in his beautiful colonial home at the end of Magnolia Drive. She was afraid after learning she lived in an illusion, only seeing what she wanted to see in William. Being naïve and throwing caution to the wind for a pair of pretty brown eyes and being tricked by the man she thought she’d loved. Bree stared at the lush green front lawn of her Maple Street manor and wondered what she was going to do. She obviously couldn’t wait and see what William would do if she kept up a façade of wedding planning and being the happy girl everyone knew her to be. Bree was lost, and confused, and everything in her heart screamed at her to run as far as she could go and never look back.

Chapter One

Bree tripped and scraped her knee on the dirt road that led from William’s house to the town square. It was a warm afternoon, and she panted to catch her breath. Bree ran as quickly as her legs would carry as she crossed into her neighborhood and to Maple Street. She nearly collapsed when she burst through the front door of her family home. She wiped the tears from her eyes and stumbled, shouting for her maid, Bessie. Bree dropped her satchel on the floor and fell into a chair in the parlor.

“How could he?” she screamed. Bessie burst into the room and Bree dove into her arms.

“Miss Bree, why are you crying?”

“William!” Bree shrieked and dropped her head onto Bessie’s shoulder as she sobbed.

Bessie sat her on the chair and kneeled on the floor in front of her. “Tell me what he did.” She had been with Bree since she was a small girl and was like a sister to her. She was always deeply concerned when Bree would get upset. She had seen Bree go through her share of heartache and knew that the best thing she could do was to be there for her and try to be a source of comfort.

She had seen how much Bree had grown since she was a young girl and was so proud of her. She wanted to make sure Bree was happy and healthy and would do anything to help her get through this difficult time. She offered Bree a shoulder to cry on, a warm hug, and a listening ear. Bessie always made sure Bree knew that she was not alone and that she was there for her no matter what.

Bree took a deep breath. “He killed my father.” Her voice shook terribly and she choked on her own breath when those words escaped her lips. She took a tissue from Bessie’s hand. “I went into his house and heard him speaking to a man in his office. He said he was going to…” She started to breathe heavily, but Bessie held her hands tight, which always comforted her. “After the wedding, he plans to murder me so he can take my father’s money.”

Bessie gasped. “Are you absolutely sure that is what you heard?”

“He said his cousin put the rattlesnake in my father’s study. William had been planning my father’s murder ever since he got the job. It’s been his scheme the whole time.” Bree held her hand over her heart as it thumped intensely against her chest. She bent over, holding her stomach, and struggled to take a breath.

Bessie pulled Bree tight into her arms. “You have to go to the sheriff.”

“They will never listen.” Bree wiped her eyes. “What good is a woman’s word against a man’s? Especially a fine upstanding gentleman like William. They will never believe me.”

“Perhaps we should pray.” Bessie got up and went to the table in the corner and took a Bible from the drawer. “You are a strong young lady, Miss Bree, and it is time for you to be braver than you have ever been.” She handed Bree the Bible and kneeled by her side as Bree selected an appropriate verse.