Lilith was a good match. She would be lucky to have Haven. That was, Haven would be lucky to have her. And still, the echo of his words consumed Sera. My duchess. Of course, he meant his wife in the vaguest, broadest terms. He did not mean Sera. How many times had he made it clear he didn’t want her? How many times had she said she did not want him? And she hadn’t. Not once she’d stopped wanting him. Not once she’d left. She’d spent nearly three years not wanting him. Proudly not wanting him. Proudly planning a future devoid of him. And now . . . with a handful of words—words like my duchess
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