Portia: OMG It’s worse.

Portia: He’s not a Highlander.

Nya: Is he a vampire? Maybe I’ll find my Rognath sooner than I imagined.

Portia: I think he might be the lovechild of a Duke?

Nya: EatingPopcorn.gif

Ledi: chinhands like, chin is firmly nestled into my hands

Portia: So, any advice on how to break it to someone that they’re probably a member of the aristocracy?

Ledi: Welllllllllll, I have some experience with this.

Nya: Bit of an understatement, cous.

Ledi: I know sometimes your judgment in how to present distressing news to someone can be lacking, so I’ll say just gather your information, sit him down, and tell him. No contrived situations to spring the truth on him, like orchestrating an elaborate and humiliating reveal in front of a crowd of strangers.

Portia: Sorry.

Ledi: Just remember he’s a human. This is his life. Unless he’s completely sedated, he will have a reaction to this, and when presented with an unknown reaction in a test subject all you can do is watch and wait. And since he’s not a lab rat, be there to help him through it.

Portia: I doubt he needs me for that.

Ledi: He’ll need someone. You can be his someone, if you’re up for it.

Ledi: I can only speak for myself, but I think I would have gone crazy after this princess shit if you weren’t there to tell me how to talk to rich people and what was expected of me. You’re pretty great at being a friend, Portia Hobbs. finger guns

Portia:

Portia swiped at the real tears that had gathered in her eyes. She’d almost lost Ledi’s friendship with insecurities and boundary issues. She really had lost Reggie, until just recently, by avoiding her family and their judgment. She hadn’t been there for either of them when they’d needed her the most. And though both relationships seemed better and stronger now, she sometimes wondered if they weren’t just pretending. Indulging the poor, misguided loser until she messed up again and lost them completely.

No.

Ledi didn’t lie, and she didn’t bother with emotional stuff unless she was really moved to. So Portia was left with either thinking her best friend was a sociopath drawing out some protracted mindfuck, or she had to accept that maybe, just maybe, Ledi had meant what she’d written. She allowed herself a few seconds of doubt-free joy. Sometimes it was a simple text sent from a friend thousands of miles away, a thing lots of people would call insubstantial, that felt like the most solid thing in her world.

Portia stood from her seat.

“Excuse me?”

The librarian looked up again.

“I need help now. I need to print this article and . . . do you have any books about dukes?”

The librarian’s eyes went wide and she rubbed her hands together with glee. “We have a fantastic romance section,” she said. “Do you need recommendations? How do you like your dukes? Grumpy? Tortured? Alpha, beta, or alpha in the streets, beta in the sheets?”

“Actually, I meant nonfiction,” Portia said glumly.

The librarian sighed. “Aye. Just a warning, love—the non-fic dukes are not nearly as fun.”

Portia sighed.

The librarian had no idea.

Chapter 13

Tavish wasn’t a man prone to anxiety, but he’d spent the two hours after Portia’s awkward phone call asking if they could have a meeting in a state of extreme agitation. He’d suggested they meet at Cheryl’s for lunch and she’d insisted they meet in his office. He’d tried to puzzle out what could have had her in such a state, and what could be so important that she’d call a meeting, but he could only think of one thing.

She’s leaving.

Though they’d cleaned together after their kiss, and agreed to act like it hadn’t happened, Portia had clearly been avoiding him. She’d been quiet at dinners, though he’d caught her glancing at him. Her body had been stiff with tension, and now that he knew what she felt like in his arms, he’d wanted nothing more than to help relieve it.

Tav clomped up the steps to his office, annoyed by the way his skin felt too tight and anxiety pooled in his stomach. He’d forgotten what it felt like, being this concerned when it came to a woman.

This is exactly the feeling you wanted to avoid, you git.

After Greer—Greer who he’d loved and who had loved him, but it had all gone to hell anyway—he’d been too busy with other things to deal with feelings and all that shite. And if he hadn’t been too busy, he’d been too clever, because only a fool set himself up for disappointment on a grand scale twice. He’d get an itch and he’d scratch it. He told himself that’s what this was about—Portia was like a mosquito bite that he’d scratched just enough to make the itch abundantly and painfully clear. That’s why his breath kicked a bit when he turned at the top of the stairs and saw her sitting pensively in the chair outside his office door in a delicate dress that had no place in his armory. That’s why he was already preparing a script to convince her not to leave: If you leave, we’ll have to start the apprentice search all over again. If you stay, I’ll never touch you again.

It was then that he realized he was in deep shite. He remembered something his mum had asked him when things were falling apart with Greer.

“What are you willing to do to keep her at your side? I won’t see a son of mine crawl on his knees, but if you think she’s worth it, I’ll be here to clean the scrapes, no matter what she decides.”