“When you walk into these events, people are going to try to intimidate you. But most of them only have their wealth, so they’ll use backhanded compliments and insinuation that you aren’t good enough.”

“Well, they wouldn’t be wrong there, would they?” He said it with a laugh and not even a forced one, but Portia felt a flare of indignation. Her hand left his shoulder and went to his chin, gently turning his face up toward her.

“Don’t joke about stuff like that, Tavish. Not anymore and definitely not in front of any of these people you’re going to meet.”

His hazel-green gaze was hot as it locked on to hers.

“Isn’t that some advice that you should heed yourself? Self-deprecation is your stock-in-trade.”

“It’s different for me,” she responded. Quickly. Annoyed. Because everything I say is true. “Don’t sell yourself short just because you didn’t go to a fancy school or learn all the ways money can be used to make someone feel small.”

His fingertips brushed her elbow, trailed up her forearm leaving a wake of goose bumps, and then his fingers encircled her wrist.

“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.