Chapter One

London, January 1871

Nearly Two Hundred Years Later . . .

Grooms as far as the eye could see. Men with blond hair, brown hair, black hair, auburn hair . . . was that green hair? Angelica stood amidst thousands of white-gloved hands holding dozens of multicolored flowers all belonging to equally smiley faces.

"Marry me!" one of them called out. He was old, quite old, Angelica realized, and reminded her a little bit of a drawing she had seen of the philosopher Plato.

"No! Marry me!" others sang. Sang? Yes, they were quite literally singing! Oh God, this had to be a dream. A really bad dream . . .

"Come on Angelica, you know you want to marry me!"

"Prince Albert?" Angelica asked with some shock. "But you died ten years ago from typhoid! Queen Victoria mourns you still!"

Albert wiggled his brows at her lecherously and had Angelica stepping back.

"Now, just wait a minute. I don't really want to marry, and if I must, I could hardly pick from all of you!"

Silence followed her frustrated declaration and had her glancing about warily. The smiles were fading quickly, and Angelica watched as several bright flowers dropped to the ground.

"Gentlemen?"

"Freak!" The word came from somewhere in the distance and echoed eerily. The eyes that had looked upon her with devotion only a moment ago were accusing.

"Freak!"

"Monster!"

"Wait, let me explain!" Angelica raised her voice so that she might be heard over the growing chanting, but to no avail. The anxiety that had begun to flutter in her stomach was quickly turning to dread.

"Kill the monster!" It was Albert. He pointed his royal finger at her and repeated, "Kill the monster!"

The men closest to her seized her, and try as she might Angelica could not shake them loose.

"Wait. Please, I am no monster. I'm innocent! Pease, I did not ask for this curse. No! Someone, help!"

Angelica woke with a start to find her brother watching her, a wry smile etched on his boyish face.

"Did someone fail to tell you that it is bad manners to sleep at the breakfast table? Supper or dinner maybe, but breakfast, it is a definite faux pas my dear."

It took her a moment to get her bearings. Her eyes darted across the table to ensure that none of the men in her dreams were here in their sunny breakfast room. They were not. Of course they were not, she thought with a hefty dose of relief.

Mikhail was looking at her with a slightly quizzical expression that served to pull her out of her thoughts. Straightening her hair with an expert hand, Angelica pushed aside the remnants of her dream and smiled for her brother's benefit.

"At least I am at the breakfast table. If you had gotten as little sleep as I did last night, you would have skipped it altogether."

Mikhail ignored the truth of her declaration and continued with his jibing, laughing at his sister over a warm cup of tea. "I really do not know what is more scandalous. Falling asleep at the breakfast table or burning away the candles reading all night."

"Well, if you did not insist on dragging me to late dinners and balls each night of the week, I would hardly have to be up till all hours, now would I?"

Rolling his eyes, Mikhail sighed in frustration. "You cannot still be mad about your debut, Angelica. You had to be introduced to society formally sooner or later, and in this instance it was definitely later!"

Angelica made no response. There was no use in telling her brother that she would wholeheartedly prefer to be living in their country home, where no such fancy debuts would...