The Chapel was a masterpiece of stone and light. Sunlight poured through the high stained-glass windows, painting the stone floor in pools of red, blue, and gold. The air was cool and smelled of beeswax candles and the thousands of white lilies that decorated every pew and pillar.
The organ music swelled. It was a deep, resonant sound that vibrated in the chest of every guest.
The pews were packed. The cream of society sat in hushed anticipation. Lords in their finest coats adjusted their cravats. Ladies in pastel silks fanned themselves gently, their eyes fixed on the heavy oak doors at the back of the chapel.
At the front, standing before the altar, was Carcel, the Duke of Carleton.
