Lily was caught in a dream, like a glistening dewdrop suspended on the length of a shimmering strand of spiderweb at dawn. She felt the magic of this day infusing her with strength and hope. All around her the wedding guests talked and laughed, the sounds of their gaiety filling her heart with an intense warmth.

And yet part of her felt like a fraud. She was not truly free to be herself. She was not Lily Wycliff, after all, but Lily Linley. She was not free to act as though ...