Page 5 of Finding Lord Landry

Because kissing him even just once would have devastating consequences.

TWO

LANDRY

I raced down the street with my heart already pounding and my head spinning and ran for two solid hours until my legs shook and my stomach cramped. By the time I reached my building, the taste of Kenji’s kiss was already stronger in my memory than on my tongue.

Damn him. Damn him to fucking hell for not giving me a chance.

Our argument at Christmas played through my head for the millionth time. I’d tried to make my case—to convince Kenji to take a chance at turning our physical relationship into something more, something with actual, confessed feelings—but he’d soundly rejected me.

“You’re incapable of a serious relationship, Landry,”he’d said.“And you don’t know who you are or what you want. Why would I want to be with someone like that?”

It had cut deep, mostly because he was right in some ways… just not for the reasons he thought.

Exhausted and heartsore, annoyed at both Kenji and myself, I took the elevator up to the penthouse, trying to think up a way to keep myself distracted for the next four weeks so I didn’t accidentally find myself jogging in the neighborhood of San Cordova, pretending to need a bathroom just so Kenji might invite me in.

When the elevator door opened and I noticed a suitcase in my entry hall, I realized my distraction had arrived, but it wasnotthe pleasant sort I’d been hoping for.

Fucking fuck.I leaned forward and braced my hands on my knees, concentrating on taking a deep breath and letting it out.Jesus Christ. Just what I do not need right now.

“I can hear you out there cursing silently, Everett,” Nan’s voice called from the kitchen. “Might as well face the music.”

Nancy Bayliss was my father’s majordomo. The woman who’d been half housekeeper, half auntie to me growing up and the person most likely to call me on my bullshit.

Second only to Kenji, of course.

“How did you get in here?” I asked, coming around the corner and seeing her making herself at home with my kettle and the tea things. “And you know I preferLandry.”

Nan’s hair was pulled back in its usual twist, but a few silver-brown strands were loose around her face. Her clothes were a bit wrinkled, which wasn’t usual for her—it was clear she’d just flown in—and her smile looked tired.

“What makes you think I don’t have a key? I manage all of the family properties for you and your father.”

I moved over to the cabinet to get a glass and fill it with cold water from the fridge. “This isn’t a Davencourt property. It’s my personal one, and we both know it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, then. I sweet-talked your doorman. It turns out he has a beloved Cornish Rex. I grew up with Cornish Rexes. That was all it took. Oh,andI gave him a tin of Walker’s Shortbread from the airport Duty Free.”

I snorted. Bruce was a sucker for shortbread, so I’d asked Nan to send me some homemade shortbread from the cook at the family’s Scotland estate to go along with Bruce’s holiday bonus last year. Nan never forgot a detail, nor did she refrain from using one to her advantage when needed.

“This isn’t a good time, Nan.”

She picked up two full mugs and tilted her head toward the sofas in the living area. “Have a cuppa with me. We need to talk.”

I was filthy. Covered in sweat and probably still reeking of sex. But something in her tone alerted me to the fact this was serious. I followed her to the sofa and sat down.

Nan took a careful sip of her tea before glancing at me. “Your father’s health is deteriorating.”

“His health or his memory?” I asked. “Because you have a hard time saying the words. Dementia. Alzheimer’s.” The words weren’t hard for me to say. Accepting what they meant for him and for me, however…

Her lips firmed. “He’s no longer able to do his job, Landry. I’ve been trying to tell you for a while now, but you’ve continued to ask for more time. Well, I’m afraid that’s no longer an option. If you leave it much longer, your father might reveal your identity by accident. We need to get him out of the public eye and into a quiet retirement on the estate. And you need to take your place as the future Earl of Davencourt.”

Nan’s words were a calm statement of fact, yet they made my heart ricochet around my chest.

“Dad can simply take leave.” I felt like I was reciting lines from a script, replaying a conversation we’d had several times. “Our publicists can tell everyone he’s dealing with health issues. Cora’s already handling the family charitable foundation, and I’m managing the estates remotely. The only part of it I’m not doing is the glad-handing bullshit?—”

She lifted a sculpted eyebrow. “And a little thing known as the House of Lords.”

I made a sound of disgust. Inheriting the earldom after my father passed was one thing; serving in Parliament was another. Besides, things were different now. A seat in the Lords wasn’t passed down from father to son anymore. A replacement was carefully selected from a list of hereditary peers in a by-election. And as I had no interest in politics, I would be a terrible choice.

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