Born into a wealthy Italian family, Angela Santini had always had everything she had every wanted. Her father, Paolo, though a busy man, had always made time for her. Her mother, Ariella, a frail, petite woman, loved Angela with all her heart.

All of that changed when Ariella died. Angela had been sixteen when her mother came back from Paris with cholera. No one knew she had it until, one day, she had simply collapsed, shivering and shaking, before gasping and then lying still. Angela had watched her die, hidden behind a column in the entrance hall of their mansion.

After Ariella died, Angela's life completely changed. Her father, who had loved Ariella beyond anything else, became distant and withdrawn. He frequently spent entire days in bed, calling for more wine, and getting more and more drunk, until he passed out and slept through to the next day.

Angela, on the other hand, became more outgoing to mask her feelings. She became the young woman that anyone who was anyone wanted at their party. She was more often at a party than at home. A beautiful woman, Angela had many suitors. She gave them all equal attention, but seemed to regard it all as more of a game than anything else.

One evening, Angela returned home to find her nurse and best friend, Kelody, waiting for her. Kelody was the epitome of a strong Irish woman. She was rather large, with fiery red hair, a warm heart, and an accent that was so think even Angela sometimes had difficulty understanding her.

When Angela walked through the door, Kelody was standing at the base of the stairs, wringing her hands. As soon as she saw Angela, Kelody ran forward. "Ah, there you are! We've been waiting-"

Angela cut her off. "Oh Kelody, I've just had the most wonderful evening! I-"

"Not now, lass!" Kelody cried. "Your papa is home, and he wants to see you immediately!"

"He's home already?" Her father had gone to Marseilles again - on business, he said - but Angela hadn't expected him home for another week. "What's wrong? Why is he so early? Did something happen? Is he alright?" Angela fired off questions as she ran up the stairs to his study.

"Calm yourself, lass! Your papa is just fine. He says he has some news for you. I haven't seen him this excited since you learned how to fence." As an only child, Angela had often been made to do things that were usually reserved for boys. Her father did love her, but part of him obviously wished that Angela had been Angelo.

They reached the door of his study, where Kelody stopped Angela and straightened her dress. Angela smoothed her dark curls, and knocked on the door.

"Come in," said her father's deep voice. Angela smiled nervously at Kelody, and opened the door. "Ah, Angela! My angel! Come in, my daughter."

Angela hurried over to her father, hugged him, and then stepped back to arms-length to look at him. "Papa, you look so exhausted! You should go to bed! Your news can wait until the morning."

"No," Paolo said. His skin was pale and drawn more tightly than usual across his cheekbones, but his face was set. "No, it cannot." He gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk, and Angela sat down. Paolo sank into his leather armchair with a sigh. He looked at Angela for a minute, with a strange, sad look on his face.

Finally Angela couldn't stand the silence anymore. "Papa, what is it?"

Paolo sighed again. "I have some news for you, my daughter - news that I believe will lead to a happy future for you." He paused, and seemed to be trying to decide how to word his next sentence. "Angela, I am not young - no, don't say anything yet - I am not young anymore. I have always done what I could to make you happy. But I won't be able to do that forever. I am sick, Angela. It is nothing that you can see. Ever since your mother died, you have been my only reason to continue living, and now you are drifting slowly away. I can feel it. I am not angry, nor am I afraid. I have accepted the idea that you are a beautiful young woman, and that it is time you were part of the world.

"This brings me to my news. A few years ago, I reopened my correspondence with an old friend from Marseilles. You met him when you were very young - Count Guillomme de Mivse. We slowly lost touch over the years, but recently, when you reached the age when we would have to start seriously considering your marriage, I wrote to him again. He is a fine gentleman: courteous, generous, and certainly rich enough to make you very comfortable.

"This past week, while I was visiting him in Marseilles, the Count brought up the subject of your eligibility. We discussed the matter at great lengths, and I have decided to give him your hand in marriage. Is that not wonderful news?" Paolo beamed at Angela, who managed a weak smile in return. "Angela? What is wrong? Are you not happy?"

"I'm sorry, Papa. I am not feeling well. I think I should go lie down," Angela lied. She hated deceiving her father, but he looked so excited that she couldn't bring herself to say what was really in her mind.

"Oh. Oh, yes, of course. Let me call a maid to assist you."

"No, Papa, I can do it myself." Angela stood up and gave her father a quick kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight, Papa."

"Goodnight, my angel. We will continue this tomorrow."

Angela nodded quickly, and then left his study as fast as she could. She started down the hallway almost at a dead run. She was halfway to her room before she realized that Kelody was puffing along behind her. Angela stopped to wait for her.

"What's wrong, lass?" Kelody panted as she drew level with Angela.

"Everything," Angela answered. She strode off down the corridor toward her room, with Kelody hurrying alongside her.

When the door to her room shut behind her, Angela screamed. She picked up her water pitcher and threw it across the room, where it shattered against the wall.

"Angela?" Kelody asked cautiously.

"Oh, Kelody, how could he have done this?"

"Done what, lass? Who?"

"Father! He has given my hand to some stuffy old count in Marseilles! I met him years ago, and I remember him. He's so old! He has to be almost fifty. Fifty! That's almost three times my age! How can I marry someone so old?" Angela was crying now, the tears dripping on to the front of her silk dress. "And now look, I've gone and ruined my favorite dress! I hate him!" She plucked at the cream- colored silk, running her fingers over the fine mint green embroidery.

"Now don't you say that, Angela! Your father loves you, and he's just trying to make sure you have a future that you can be sure of. Come here, lass, let's get you ready for bed. You change into your sleeping gown, and then I'll brush your hair." Kelody turned Angela around and began unlacing her dress. She pulled it off and carefully draped it over a chair. She took off Angela's under robes and then handed her a soft sleeping gown. Angela sat down at her armoire and Kelody began to undo her elaborate hairstyle. When Angela's dark hair tumbled down over her shoulder, she let out a deep sigh of relief.

Kelody picked up the ivory-backed hairbrush and began running it through Angela's hair. "There now, that's it. Relax." Soon Angela was too tired to keep her eyes open. She climbed into her bed and Kelody tucked the light blue goose-down comforter under her chin.

"Goodnight, lass," Kelody said, before blowing out the candle beside the bed. Angela was asleep before Kelody shut the door.