Page 54 of Finding Lord Landry

After pulling myself together and cleaning up, I still couldn’t bring myself to show my face downstairs. The knowledge that I’d hurt Landry left me feeling like I’d just stepped onto a boat in unknown waters during a squall. I didn’t know how to navigate this.

While it was very tempting to believe my own excuses about why I’d blurted out the marriage lie in front of the Winthrops—that Landry needed my help—the truth was, I’d been suddenly, shockingly, viscerally jealous.

Jealous like a pampered dog guarding purloined table scraps. Irrational and primal. Unnecessary. Ridiculous.

But the feeling had been so sharp and bitter I hadn’t been able to stop myself from blurting out the wordmarried, verbally pissing on the man, because what I’d really wanted to say wasMine.

Mine, mine, mine.

Had I really claimed Landry publicly just to reject him? Was that who I was? Was that actually what I wanted?

I sank down on the little couch in my guest room and tried to marshal my thoughts. I was fueled by organization and logical efficiency. But when I tried to think about Landry objectively, to make a pros and cons list, I couldn’t stop remembering earlier today, when Cora had brought the three of us to a little office.

I hadn’t noticed much about our surroundings at the time, too overwhelmed by the man beside me and the fallout of my possessive overreaction. Now, I considered the details of the room itself.

A familiar crystal statuette shoved to the back of a bookshelf had been one of Landry’s Model of the Year Awards.

The stack of spiral-bound reports on the desk with their unique mottled blue-green covers were the annual reports from Sterling Chase, the Brotherhood’s shared venture capital firm, which I prepared for them at the end of each year.

The scattered hair bands beside the stack of opened mail in the antique wooden desk box were the type Landry used.

The tiny mason jar filled with candy dicks was a gift Silas had given the Brotherhood for Christmas.

The room we’d escaped to had been Landry’s office, not Cora’s. And it was obviously well used.

He’d brought the candy and the reports with him to England, even though he’d stopped in New York between leaving Majestic—where he’d received both the candy and the reports—and arriving here.

Hell, I was surprised he hadn’t left the reports in a recycle bin at Dev and Tully’s house. I’d never known Landry to pay much attention to the Sterling Chase business details.

My fingers initiated a phone call to Bash before I could stop to think about it.

“Thank god you’re okay,” he said as soon as he picked up. “Youareokay, right? Landry said you weren’t hurt.”

I reached up to touch the edge of my forehead where the cut had disappeared into my hairline and the bruise was easy to hide. “I’m fine.”

“Good. Are you back in the city, or are you headed to Majestic? Rowe and I are still in Majestic and think it would be a good place for you to recuperate. But if you’re in the city, don’t even think about going to the office.”

I walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain. Deep shadows cut across the view of Regent’s Park as the sun slipped behind the buildings.

“I’m in London.”

Bash hesitated. “Wait, still? I thought that was just a temporary thing.”

A couple walked hand in hand down the sidewalk. The woman chatted excitedly while the man shifted a tote bag on his shoulder without losing his grip on the woman’s hand.

“Landry had some things he needed my help with,” I said, remembering Chaska’s wisdom.Clarity comes in simplicity.

“Oh, well, good. I hope it’s not too demanding. I’m sure he could use your help with his statements to the media and whatnot. As long as you get some time to recover.”

For a split second, I thought he knew about Landry being a British peer and about our sham engagement-slash-marriage… but then I realized he must have been referring to Landry’s retirement from modeling.

Bash obviously hadn’t seen the news yet, but then again, it was early in Wyoming, and when the guys were together at Dev and Tully’s house, they were more likely to be focused on Lellie than their phones.

I cleared my throat. “Actually, we have a situation here. I thought the Brotherhood might need to be aware of it.”

“What is it?” Bash asked, his need to control coming to the surface in his tone.

“We landed in London to a bit of a media frenzy,” I began. “There are some wild headlines floating around—romantic headlines—and we’re currently strategizing with a PR team to figure out the best response.”

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