Page 145 of His Grace, the Duke
Burke slowly exhaled. “Well . . . shit.”
67
James
George burst throughthe side door of the church, dragging James behind him. He shouldered his way into the sacristy, pushing James ahead of him with both hands, and slammed the door shut, sagging his weight against it.
James righted himself with a scowl. “George, what on earth—”
“I can’t do this,” he panted, one hand over his chest. “I can’t. Oh God—oh—I can’t breathe—”
“Whoa... easy,” James said, stepping forward to brace George by the elbow.
“James, I can’t breathe,” George gasped in a panic.
“Loosen your cravat,” James soothed, holding tight to his brother’s arm.
Both hands went to George’s neck as he clawed at the cloth strangling him like a noose, desperate to untie the knot.
“Why don’t you sit down.” James eased his brother back towards a chair.
“I can’t possibly sit at a time like this,” George cried. Tugging away from James, he strode across the room, spinning when he reached the narrow window. “I can’t do this,” he repeated.
“Alright, so we cancel the wedding. Or we postpone. Whatever you need—”
“Not the wedding—this!” He gestured wildly around the room. “All of this! I can’t be this person anymore. I cannot do this. It’s killing me, James.”
“What are you talking about?”
George made a sound somewhere between a choke and a shriek. “I’m talking aboutyou! I’m talking about me! I’m talking about bloody all of it!”
James felt his stomach lurch. “Me? What the hell do I have to do with it?”
“You are the very middle of it!” George cried. “James, you are the worst second son to have ever lived! The position is utterly wasted on you.” He strode forward, eyes wide. “Do you know how unfair it is for me to have to watch you squander your chance to be a useless spare to the heir? It’s infuriating. This envy, it eats at me. It burrows inside me and makes mehateyou.”
“George—”
“Ishould have been the second son,” George snarled, jabbing at his chest with his thumb. “Not you.Me! I would do it so much better than you!”
“Goddamn it, George—”
“Andyoushould have been born the duke.”
A sharp silence fell between the brothers. George stood before James in his wedding clothes, chest heaving. Taking a breath, James gave his waistcoat an irritated tug. “Unfortunately for both of us, those are not the cards we were dealt.”
George huffed, flapping his arms. “Well, who says we have to keep playing cards, then?”
“What?”
George took a step closer. “James, you and I are two of the most powerful men in England. Why do we let the rest of the rabble make us play a game we both loathe so very much? What if I don’t want to play cards anymore? What if I want to play hazard or chess or-or backgammon!”
“Speak English, George,” James growled.
“I want you to trade lives with me!”
James just blinked. “Trade lives? What... like I start calling myself George and you will go by James, and we’ll just hope that by some miracle no one notices? Am I expected to waltz out there and marry Piety?”
“No,” George said with a laugh. “That would be ridiculous. You’re in love with Rosalie—”
