Page 107 of Break My Heart

There’s a brief moment of silence before the barrister, who introduced himself as Heythrop, asks, “What would you like me to address you as, your lordship?”

“Leo, since what I’m asking you to do is to eliminate the part of my life where you’ll ever have to address me as a member of the peerage.”

“Certainly, Leo.” Heythrop shuffles some papers. “Obviously, I watched the news today. And if your question is whether you can renounce your heritage, it is possible.”

My heart pounds. “How?”

“Under the Peerage Act of 1963, there exists a mechanism by which an inheritor may disclaim a hereditary peerage.”

I stare at Dario’s phone like Heythrop is going to burst out with, “Just kidding,” at any moment. But his silence isn’t broken. I take a quick sweep of the room and take in Dario’s parted lips, Lewis’s steadiness, and Christin squeezing my hand.

Always Christin.

I ask him to repeat what he said, just to be certain. He does before adding on, “A disclaimer formally rejects the title and associated rights.”

“Truly?”

Heythrop gives me hope with his direct response. “Yes.”

“How?”

He remarks, “There are procedural requirements.”

“What are they?”

“Because your brother has passed,” Heythrop says carefully, “the title transferred immediately. Legally, you already are Viscount Raleigh.”

I hate the way it sounds, but I keep quiet as Heythrop continues. “If your intention is to sever yourself from the title and any future claim attached to the Hawthorne earldom, we’d need to execute formal legal documentation and notify the appropriate authorities.”

I lean back. “What do I need to do?”

“You’d need to execute an Instrument of Disclaimer,” Heythrop replies. “We can prepare the documentation and file it.”

“Then what? Does he just roll up to Buckingham Palace in his race car and drop it off?” Dario demands.

Heythrop doesn’t react to Dario’s disgust. “You don’t send a legal resignation letter to Buckingham Palace, sir. The executed Instrument of Disclaimer is delivered to the Lord Chancellor. That’s the legal requirement.”

Lewis glances at me. “I’m a bit disappointed, honestly. Dario’s race car idea had flair.”

I shake my head at him. “Lewis.”

He points at Dario. “It was his idea.”

Dario permits a small quirk of his lips. “What? I already pictured security chasing you through the gates.”

Even with everything pressing against my chest, I nearly laugh because I know I’m not alone.

Something shifts. Not my grief nor my anger.

It’s hope, because for the first time since my father walked back into my life, there might actually be a way to keep him out. “My brother is dead. His whole family is gone. My father already turned him into paperwork. How long before I can make sure he doesn’t turn me into my brother’s replacement?”

“A matter of weeks, at most.”

I can survive funerals and nightmares and months of regret because Albert and I never reconnected. But I’ll be mental if I’m forced to take my brother’s place for longer than that.

Christin’s arms wrap around me. I bury my face in her shoulder. “Then let’s proceed.”

“It won’t be quiet,” Heythrop warns. “It won’t be clean and it will absolutely escalate what’s already happening in the news.”