He emitted a muffled squeal and lurched forward, but she grabbed his shoulder before he sank to the ground, holding him upright.

“One of the benefits of this ridiculous skirt is that it conceals the movement of the legs,” she said close to his ear, which was as red as his face.

The sudden scent of whiskey made her stomach turn a bit, but the long, muscular legs covered with gingery hair that accompanied the scent gave her some relief.

“Johan.” She turned and smiled pleasantly at him. “I was just leaving Mr. Dudgeon to his business. Do you mind escorting me to the other side of the room?”

Johan was usually playful, but his stance and expression made it clear that behind his charming demeanor was a man who would gladly throw down, and was possibly looking for an opportunity to do just that.

“Is there a problem, putain?” he asked, gaze not moving from David.

“I think we’re good here,” Portia said, tugging Johan along by his sleeve. Her breath was coming fast and she felt a little shaky, but she just wanted to get away from David. “Please. Let’s go.”

Johan shot David a glare, but escorted Portia away.

“What happened?”

“Oh, it was nothing. He thinks I’m part of some conspiracy. As if I would have willingly dragged Tavish into this mess.”

“He was trying to hurt you, friend. That is not nothing.”

Portia sucked in a breath and realized she was shaking—he was right. Why was she downplaying this? She didn’t have to. David should never have touched her.

“You’re right. I was scared. I just don’t want to make a scene.”

“I hate these people,” Johan said miserably. “Cruelty is so normal to many of them.”

“How many shots did you have?” she asked.

“Only two,” he said. “For fortitude. And some whiskey.”

His gaze scanned the room, a troublesome glint in his eyes. She felt a sudden, sad kinship with the redheaded step-prince. She decided to do what she would have done to Old Portia if given a chance.

“You know what, I really need something to eat. Let’s go get some appetizers and non-alcoholic drinks. We have a long night ahead of us,” she said. They’d hydrate and wait for Tavish to return or for the night to be over—whichever happened first.

Chapter 26

Tavish was exhausted. He could spend hours practicing parries and thrusts, or bent over a forge, and be good to go, but his interactions with the peerage drained him in a way physical labor didn’t.

“That went well,” he said to Leslie as they walked away from an elderly duchess smoking a long, thin cigarette.

“I think it went well, though most people are away at the yacht races this weekend. It’s a major event. I’m fairly certain David planned it this way on purpose.”

Tav listened while scanning the room for Portia’s rust-gold ringlets and yellow dress. He’d read a thing or two about codependency after Johan’s walking stick analogy and his subsequent talks, or non-talks, with Portia. It worried him how much he itched to see her, to be next to her again, but he didn’t want her advice or assistance. He wanted her. How in the hell was he supposed to differentiate between overreliance and love?

Love.

“Fuck’s sake,” Tav said aloud as the realization hit him.

“Yes, it is a pity,” Leslie continued the explanation Tav’s thoughts had interrupted. “But don’t fret, you’ll meet everyone at the Holyrood garden party.”

“Ah, yes. Along with the Queen.”

“In a week,” Leslie said, then stopped walking, halting their progress. Tavish’s gaze went from scanning the room back down to her.

“Honestly, Your Grace? You’re not ready. I know you have some type of arrangement with Ms. Hobbs, but if you’re serious about this title, you need to find someone else to help you. More importantly, you should do so if you’re serious about her.”

Irritation walloped through him, mostly with himself. Two people who barely knew either of them were warning him off, and Portia had pulled away, too. Maybe this title was already turning him into an arsehole and this was everyone’s way of telling him.

“If you’re trying to muscle your way into the job, insulting Portia isn’t the way to do it, lass.”

Leslie shook her head. “I’m not trying to insult her. I’m being frank, because I thought you appreciated frankness. She’s American. She has little experience with the peerage. Worst of all, she loves you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Tavish said, though his irritation was being replaced with a hope he tried not to show. “Things are not like that—”

“She’s willing to give her all to make this work for you, even if she can’t. If you felt the same, would you let her? Because I have to tell you, after years of making everything go smoothly for David, love is the last thing I feel for him.”

“Oh, that’s sorted. Her apprenticeship is almost over,” he said. “It was always going to be three months. We’ve already discussed replacing her.”

“Oh dear,” Leslie sighed. “You really don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Look, I get it. You think I don’t fit in with any of these people and I’m going to make a fool of myself.”