Anne Chessley always seemed to forget how to breathe whenever she was near Viscount Sheridan. With short breaths she watched him walk down the aisle in St. George's. Light pierced the stained glass at the front of the church, showering a rainbow of colors onto the altar and the people gathered in the pews.

Miss Sheridan and her brother moved arm in arm down the aisle. His free hand gripped a cane that he swept over the floor ahead of them. Music echoed off the walls and ...