“Who is the man you wish me to marry?” Silence stretched between them before her mother approached, reaching for her daughter and placing a hand to her cheek, the soft kidskin like a firm promise. “I wish you to marry the man you wish, Sera. But a duke—” Tears came again, and Sera could not hold them back. “I don’t care that he’s a duke. That was never of interest.” “I know.” “He is Malcolm. I wish for Malcolm.” The countess shook her head. “But Malcolm is Haven before all, my dear.” Sera closed her eyes, everything suddenly, startlingly, painfully clear. “He won’t marry me, will he?” “No,”
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