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Contracts?

Oh, that would be fun.

Rents?

He’d better get a trustworthy steward, since it wasn’t as if he could check to see if he was being cheated.

And then—he choked back a horrified laugh—it was a damned good thing he could sign his documents with a seal. The Lord knew how long it would take to learn to sign his new name without looking as if he had to think about it.

John Cavendish-Audley had taken months. Was it any wonder he’d been so eager to drop the Cavendish?

Jack brought his face to his hands, closing his eyes tight. This could not be happening. He’d known it would happen, and yet, here he was, convinced it was an impossibility.

He was going mad.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Who is Philip?” Thomas asked.

“What?” Jack practically snapped.

“Philip Galbraith. He was a witness.”

Jack looked up. And then down at the register. At the swirls and dips that apparently spelled out his uncle’s name. “My mother’s brother.”

“Does he still live?”

“I don’t know. He did the last I knew. It has been five years.” Jack thought furiously. Why was Thomas asking? Would it mean anything if Philip was dead? The proof was still right there in the register.

The register.

Jack stared at it, his lips parted and slack. It was the enemy. That one little book.

Grace had said she could not marry him if he was the Duke of Wyndham.

Thomas had made no secret of the mountains of paperwork that lay ahead.

If he was the Duke of Wyndham.

But there was only that book. There was only that page.

Just one page, and he could remain Jack Audley. All his problems would be solved.

“Tear it out,” Jack whispered.

“What did you say?”

“Tear it out.”

“Are you mad?”

Jack shook his head. “You are the duke.”

Thomas looked down at the register. “No,” he said softly, “I’m not.”

“No.” Jack’s voice grew urgent, and he grabbed Thomas by the shoulders. “You are what Wyndham needs. What everyone needs.”

“Stop, you—”