When she went to Milan, to study the great masters, the Duke of Modena was attracted by her beauty and devotion to her work.  He introduced her to the Duchess of Massa Carrara, whose portrait she painted, as also that of the Austrian governor, and soon those of many of the nobility.  When all seemed at its brightest, her mother, one of the best of women, died.  Her father, broken-hearted, accepted the offer to decorate the church of his native town, and Angelica joined him in the frescoing.  After much hard work, they returned to Milan.  The constant work had worn on the delicate girl.  She gave herself no time for rest.  When not painting, she was making chalk and crayon drawings, mastering the harpsichord, or lost in the pages of French, German, or Italian.  For a time she thought of becoming a singer; but finally gave herself wholly to art.  After this she went to Florence, where she worked from sunrise to sunset, and in the evening at her crayons.  In Rome, with her youth, beauty, fascinating manners, and varied reading, she gained a wide circle of friends.  Her face was a Greek oval, her complexion fresh and clear, her eyes deep blue, her mouth pretty and always smiling.  She was accused of being a coquette, and quite likely was such.

For three months she painted in the Royal Gallery at Naples, and then returned to Rome to study the works of Raphael and Michael Angelo.  From thence she went to Bologna and beautiful Venice.  Here she met Lady Wentworth, who took her to London, where she was introduced at once to the highest circles.  Sir Joshua Reynolds had the greatest admiration for her, and, indeed, was said to have offered her his hand and heart.  The whole world of art and letters united in her praise.  Often she found laudatory verses pinned on her canvas.  The great people of the land crowded her studio for sittings.  She lived in Golden Square, now a rather dilapidated place back of Regent Street.  She was called the most fascinating woman in England.  Sir Joshua painted her as “Design Listening to Poetry,” and she, in turn, painted him.  She was the pet of Buckingham House and Windsor Castle.

In the midst of all this unlimited attention, a man calling himself the Swedish Count, Frederic de Horn, with fine manners and handsome person, offered himself to Angelica.  He represented that he was calumniated by his enemies and that the Swedish Government was about to demand his person.  He assured her, if she were his wife, she could intercede with the Queen and save him.  She blindly consented to the marriage, privately.  At last, she confessed it to her father, who took steps at once to see if the man were true, and found that he was the vilest impostor.  He had a young wife already in Germany, and would have been condemned to a felon’s death if Angelica had been willing.  She said, “He has betrayed me; but God will judge him.”