Sweat broke out at his temples as he wrestled with where exactly Portia fit in his life, and the fact that in a few weeks she would be out of it given their current plan.

“Bruv. Tav. Tavish!”

He pulled his gaze away from Portia to find Jamie regarding him with a look of annoyance. “Hullo. Did you hear anything I said?”

Tav considered lying, but Jamie’s rare scowl wasn’t something that could be overlooked.

“No, sorry—”

Cheryl huffed. “He said what is he supposed to do about the media calling us all hours of the day and night?” She stormed over to the window and peeked through an opening in the curtains. “Look! There’s one of them right now, loitering about. I’m tempted to go wave a sword at him, but I’d end up on the cover of the Looking Glass with some bloody awful headline.”

Tav looked out the window and saw a man dressed in black, leaning against a pole. He was smoking lackadaisically, but one hand rested on his camera, ready to spring into action. Tav wanted to smash it, but it didn’t matter. The photo that had run in the Bodotria Eagle had already been purchased by news outlets. Once word had gotten out how exactly it had been discovered he was a duke, the story had spread like wildfire, along with conjecture about every aspect of his life, including who Portia was to him. He wouldn’t have had a good answer for that, even if they’d bothered to ask him instead of creating stories likely to grab attention.

“One of these guys left a message asking about my police record,” Jamie said. “I don’t have a record, unless they mean the cops almost arresting me that time because they were bloody racist and wrong.”

“They’re just making shite up, now. I don’t want these people trying to paint him as the dangerous thug brother of the new duke,” Cheryl said. Her voice was trembling, which it only did when she was furious.

“You think I want that?” Tav snapped, the rush of anger stiffening his neck. Part of the reason he’d thought the duke thing worthwhile was that he might be able to ensure his family’s security in a way swordmaking never could. There was that idea gone.

“Well, you’re the one who brought this on us, you need to deal with it,” Cheryl said. “You’ve already broken the kids’ hearts by abandoning them at the exhibition. Can’t you spare a moment from your aristocratic time to take care of this?”

Christ. As if he didn’t feel shitty enough. “I’d love to be at the exhibition, but I literally have to throw a party for the Queen. The fucking Queen. Trust me, I’d rather be with you lot.”

Ms. Baker had reached out to Portia and handed over the planning for the Queen’s garden party, which was traditionally hosted by the Duke of Edinburgh. Tav didn’t care for royals, but the thought of meeting the Queen filled him with a nervous dread. What if she treated him as David had? What if she shunned him, publicly? What if she told awful racist jokes and expected him to laugh?

“I’ll try to take care of the paps,” Tavish said, though he had no idea how to do so without threatening them. He only knew how to ask Portia what to do, and she was already stretched thin and holding herself away from him since the afternoon they’d ruined him being able to spend more than five minutes at his desk without a naughty thought.

Cheryl continued her uncharacteristic rant. “And you might also tell the paparazzi if they’re going to ruin my business by gathering in front of the armory and scaring customers, the least they can do is buy lunch!”

It was when her voice went shrill that Tav realized what was fueling her: fear. Having a duke for a brother-in-law had seemed fun at first, but now that reality was setting in, Cheryl was likely reconsidering her earlier excitement.

The click clack of Portia’s fingers on the keyboard stopped. “Everyone needs to calm down.”

“That’s easy for you to say, no one’s about to make you out to be some kind of gangster in the papers,” Jamie said.

“Gangster? I’ve been called an American con artist who falsified paternity tests and Tav’s pregnant mistress. And unlike you, I have an internet presence, a semi-famous sister, and wealthy, prominent parents whose business could be affected by negative press. I’ve had to deal with the blowback for myself, my family, Tavish, and both of you. I’ve been the one dealing with everything. Everything. You want to tell me that’s easy one more time?”

There was steel in her voice—Tav heard it loud and clear, but Jamie and Cheryl were used to nice, accommodating Portia. Or they were too panicked to pay attention.

“Well, it will be over for you eventually. You get to skip away from all this soon,” Cheryl said. “That’s why you get to sit there all calm, even though you started this mess.”

Portia’s usually expressive face went blank, her eyes desolate. That had hurt her, and Tav’s urge to protect everyone found its focus.

Tav stepped between them. “Hey now, it’s not her fault. Maybe you want to take it up with your mother-in-law instead of an easy target. Or have you forgotten about all that sensitive shite you talked the other week?”

“No, she’s right. I do leave soon.” Portia was still looking at her screen and her voice was strangely dull when she spoke again. “Leave and spend every day hoping that I didn’t ruin all of your fucking lives by going to the library and meddling in the past. So I understand that you’re stressed, but I can’t be stressed right now. I don’t have that option. There’s a ball in a few days and Tavish doesn’t even know how to waltz. Every news outlet from Buzzfeed to Horse & Hound is in our in-box. There are two hundred and forty messages on the armory’s voice mail and I don’t see either of you volunteering to log them, let alone get back to anyone with a coherent answer. So. I am going to need you to calm down.”