In 1830 London, the wackiest thing for a psychiatrist like Eve Bluebeard to observe is not potty paranormal patients or X, but a man who insists he’s her husband—and how much she soon wishes that were true.

THE DOCTOR IS IN LOVE.

EVERYONE ELSE IS OUT OF THEIR MINDS.

When your father is not only an infamous pirate but the husband of six vanished wives, respectability’s hard to come by. That’s why Eve invented herself a husband. How else was a nineteenth-century gal to follow her dreams and become one of those newfangled “psychiatrists”?

Certainly she would never run The Towers, 1830 London’s preeminent asylum for potty paranormals. But now, wackier than the werewolves and loonier than the leprechaun she’s treating, something new has taken shape. He has the name of her never-before-seen husband, the body to drive a girl absolutely batty, and all the right parts to make her heart and soul take flight.