“Thank you, squire. I’ll agree to that if you’ll do me one better—don’t sell yourself short, full stop.”
She realized that she was maybe getting a bit too intense, and also still holding him by the chin like a weirdo, so she pulled her hands away and marched stiffly back to her seat across from him. She could still feel the pressure of his fingers dragging across her wrist as she’d pulled away. “Um, sorry about that.”
“Sorry for trying to help me?” he asked. “Don’t worry, I can handle myself.”
“Look, you talk about rich fucks this, and rich arseholes that, but you don’t understand how these people operate. I don’t even understand. There are plenty of perfectly nice rich people, don’t get me wrong.”
“Oh heaven forbid I misjudge someone who can go cry into a wad of bills about it.”
Portia sighed and ignored that jab. She knew he hadn’t aimed it at her, but it had landed right in a sensitive spot. “All it takes is one jerk to scent a whiff of uncertainty on you. Then they have their in to bring you down a notch. If someone is going to be petty, make them work for it. Don’t hand your insecurity to them on a platter.”
“Is that what it was like for you?” There was concern in his eyes and this was all wrong because she was supposed to be the one helping him, but he was the one apologizing and telling her to think better of herself. She should just say “no” and move on.
She pressed her lips together. “In my family, Reggie was the smart and reliable one and I was the pretty and flighty one. That alone gave people a lot of ‘ins.’ I got a lot of ‘don’t worry, she’ll find a wealthy husband to put up with her’ type comments.”
Tav shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. You’re twins. Do you not look alike?”
“We’re not identical, but we look close enough. That kind of makes it worse, huh?” She shrugged, and then decided she’d talked about herself enough. “So listen, don’t get cocky or anything, but you’re already pretty impressive. If you walk into a room with your back straight and your head high and your ‘Yeah, I’m the new duke in town’ swagger, most people will be ready to fall at your feet. It won’t matter where you went to school or who your mother is.”
“Not rolling my eyes is really paying off,” he said lightly.
“I wasn’t trying to compliment you,” Portia said. She felt a little exposed. Tavish was looking at her in that new way he had, like he was trying to figure out what she was thinking—like he cared what she was thinking. She almost preferred when he’d been rude and hell-bent on ignoring her.
“Even better,” he said. Her forearms rested flat on the table in front of her and he reached out and brushed his fingertip over the back of her hand. That soft touch sent a thrill up her arm that left raised hairs in its wake. “Thank you. For all this. I—”
“Special delivery!” Jamie announced as he shuffled into the kitchen lugging a huge trunk behind him. Portia quickly pulled her arms back across the table.
Tav stood up and glanced at her. “Always stand when someone enters the room,” he said in the exaggerated posh accent he used to mock his etiquette lessons.
He made his way over to Jamie, somewhat reluctantly, and she got up to follow. She should have been happy for the interruption, right? They didn’t need to keep finding reasons to touch one another.
“Here you go, Your Grace,” Jamie said, bowing at Tav as he presented the trunk. He was super enthusiastic about Tavish’s news, and apparently the novelty hadn’t worn off yet.
“Don’t call me that,” Tav snapped, shocking Portia with his sudden mood change.
“I was just joking, bruv,” Jamie said, but he looked surprised too, and a little hurt.
“It’s not really funny is it, Jamie?”
Portia had noticed the way Tav seemed to stiffen up every time Cheryl and Jamie said the word duke, which was admittedly a lot, but they were his biggest supporters. Jamie had started doing much of the non-artisanal labor so deliveries wouldn’t fall behind, and Cheryl and Kevyn had been leading some of the kids’ classes. Portia always felt a bit of shame seeing how they threw their support behind Tav, remembering the one crisis her family had gone through and how she’d run off instead of helping her parents or spending more time at the hospital. She couldn’t understand why their enthusiasm angered Tav.
Jamie’s hurt expression morphed into one of annoyance—perhaps the first time Portia had ever seen it on his face. “I don’t see what the problem is. Unless you’re planning on cutting and running, that’s your title, aye?”
“Give it a rest.” Tav glared at him as he ripped at the tape surrounding the trunk and pried it open. “It’s bad enough other people will call me that. I don’t need to hear it in my own home.”
Jamie’s mouth twisted. “Oh, you mean the home that you got from your father the duke, along with a title, power, and who knows how many millions of quid?”
“Hey, guys,” Portia said, stepping in between them. Two large men who knew how to grapple and use swords arguing was a little frightening, even if she knew they’d never hurt one another. Physically, at least.
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re jealous,” Tav said, ignoring her. “You think I asked for any of this?”
Jamie exhaled a frustrated noise and ran a hand over his face, before using it to gesture in Tav’s direction. “Obviously I’m jealous. Who wouldn’t be jealous of someone who had won the absentee father lottery? But that’s not the problem here. Your whinging all the damned time is the problem!”
“Whinging?” Tav seemed to choke on the word and Portia stepped back from between them.
Jamie’s face scrunched up. “For years, we’ve all had to hear about how little you care about this building, even though you encouraged me and Cheryl to invest our livelihood in it. As if being gifted a grand old building was a burden. And now you’ve been given a title and money and power and all you can do is complain about that, too! Fuck’s sake, Tavish, you really are a wanker, you know that?”
Jamie turned to go.
“Jamie. Jamie!”
Jamie stopped. His hands went to his waist, his shoulders slumped, and his head dropped forward. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. Guess I’ve kind of had tunnel vision about all this. Or wankervision.”
Jamie chuckled a bit, then sighed and turned around.
“Come here, bruv.” He held his arms open and beckoned Tav with his hands. “You know I don’t like arguing. Family have to stick together. Bring it in.”
Portia watched as Tav lumbered over and clapped his baby brother in a hug. Just like that, all the angry energy between them dissolved like cotton candy under a sprinkler. If there was anything to be jealous about, it wasn’t Tav’s title.
She glanced over at the trunk. “Oh, your clothes have arrived!”
She busied herself pulling out the various slacks, jeans, sweaters, and suits and laying them carefully over the backs of the kitchen chairs.
“Clothes?” Tav and Jamie said at the same time.
Portia grabbed one of the shirts, a blue houndstooth button-up that was impossibly soft, and walked over to Tav, holding it up against his chest. “They’re from a service that delivers clothing. You try it on. If you like it, you keep it. If not, you send it back with the trunk. No need to go to shops.”
Tav rubbed the material of the shirt between his thumb and forefinger. “Hm. You know, I can’t even take the piss out of this. Doing the whole fitting mess without leaving the house? I could get used to that.”
“Try it on, Tav!” Jamie said. His anger was gone, and he was already excitedly digging through the clothing, picking out items he thought would look good.
Portia’s phone vibrated on the kitchen table. “I’ll give you some privacy. But Jamie, take a photo of every outfit so I can check them out later.”