“I’m to believe you don’t know me?” She stilled and turned back, humor underscoring her words, setting him off-balance. “At the risk of sounding rude, my lord, I don’t particularly care what you believe. As we’ve never met, I don’t know how I would know you.” Mayweather barked a laugh, and Haven had the distinct urge to push his friend right over the balcony into the hedge below. “She has you there.” She did not have him. He was not to be had. “Your Grace,” he said. She blinked. “I beg your pardon?” “You called me ‘my lord.’ It’s ‘Your Grace.’” She smirked. “How did you know how thoroughly
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