Chapter 16 #2
“I’m not sure what you can do, to be honest. He seems to be holding the right cards at the moment.
But it would be good if we could talk to Noah and Jack.
” Even though it wasn’t Jack’s fault, Ginger couldn’t help the irritation brimming within her.
Jack had involved Noah in something dangerous, obviously, and brought trouble to their doorstep.
And now she couldn’t even reach her own husband to let him know their son was missing and unaccounted for.
“I’ll do my utmost to find where Jack has gone. Knowing him, he’s attempting to be some sort of martyr and not involve me with this whole nasty business with Federline.”
“Do you know where they were heading?”
Alastair grimaced. “My guess would be Iraq. But where—I’m not certain. I believe his sister was last seen working at the Royal Tombs of Ur.”
“Then maybe we should go there,” Victoria said, sitting straighter. “I’m certain I could arrange transportation and—”
“Iraq is a large country, dearest. One that I wouldn’t send two well-bred Englishwomen to without important preparations. Jack and Noah could be anywhere.”
“My daughter’s life is at stake, Alastair. I can’t afford to risk a delay in communicating with Jack.”
“And we can’t afford to risk a delay by not heeding Alastair’s advice,” Ginger said gently. “Besides which, we don’t know when Mr. Federline will contact us with whatever next steps he has.”
Victoria shifted with discomfort. “I called the man Federline said to contact here. Told him we’d arrived earlier than expected and to meet us here. He’s on his way.”
Oh no. Ginger resisted the urge to scold her. She was desperate and had mentioned several times throughout their journey that she hoped the proof Federline would offer of Ivy’s well-being would be an opportunity to see her.
But Ginger was hoping they’d have a chance to settle in first. Talk to Alastair, make a plan for what to do next. And she hadn’t wanted to invite Federline’s messenger directly to her home.
“In that case, we might think of moving that meeting to a room where I can hide my presence.” Alastair surveyed the discarded furniture covers.
“The fact that the house is still shuttered might help, but your father was a suspicious sort, wasn’t he, Ginger?
Surely he has a room or office in here that might provide a good covert space to hide. ”
“Yes, his office has a servants’ door that would work.” Ginger stood, a nervous feeling rising through her. Her father, God rest his soul, had been the one who’d set her on the path of intrigue and danger—more than once. As a girl, she’d sometimes wished he’d be more exciting. More adventurous.
Now she wished he’d been more boring.
“Try to check your emotions when Federline’s messenger arrives,” Ginger said with a warning look toward Victoria. “I know it isn’t easy—believe me, I’m as desperate to hear anything about Alex. But we have to trust that we’ll find a way through this and get both our children back whole and safe.”
Victoria raised her chin, a fierce look glittering in her eyes.
“Whole is a relative term, Ginger. Ivy and Alex may not be harmed physically from this ordeal—and I pray to God they aren’t or I will murder the men who did this with my own bare hands—but they will be changed by it, I promise you.
And you know it. These are the sorts of events that define who we become, like it or not. ”
Ginger stared at her friend, her stomach dropping.
She’s right.
However, Ginger didn’t want to think about that yet.
Alex was precocious, but he was still fairly innocent.
And Ivy … she was such a young, beautiful girl.
She couldn’t allow herself to consider the possibilities of what the thugs who had her might have done by now.
If anything, having been a physician the last fifteen years, Ginger had witnessed more abuse to women than ever.
She didn’t have any delusions of what could happen.
“Don’t be pessimistic,” Alastair said, cutting into her thoughts.
He crossed his arms, looking from one woman to the other.
“I stand before two of the bravest, most accomplished women I know who both dealt with their fair share of treachery. Our scars don’t define us, Victoria.
They’re just window dressing. We all have the choice to be slaves to the dark parts of our souls or not.
And both of you are exemplary examples of individuals who have chosen not to be. ”
The buzzing of the bell at the gate interrupted them and Victoria shot from her seat, lacking any of her familiar poise. “That must be him.”
Ginger nodded. “Why don’t you go and invite him in? I’ll take Alastair to the office and hide him away—and you can bring the man there.”
They parted, and Ginger led Alastair quickly through the foyer and into the hall, turning on some lights as she went.
Opening the door to the office, she released a held breath and flipped on a light.
This place had changed significantly since Noah had converted it to his own office and schoolroom for the children when they wintered here.
None of the dark mahogany furniture her father had favored—instead locally crafted furnishings filled the space—along with a few nods to Egyptology and Bedouin wares.
Yet Ginger still wondered if someday she might knock into the wrong wall panel and find yet another of her father’s hidden secrets. Noah had cleared the room of smuggled antiquities long ago, but what if he’d missed something?
She shook her head. I must be letting my worries about Alex and Ivy get the better of me.
She hurried to the servant’s entrance in the back of the room and let Alastair into the dark space there.
As she started to close the door, Alastair reached for her hand and gave it a tight squeeze.
“All will be well. Keep your wits about you. And I think you were right—it’s better not to mention Alex at all.
Chances are the lad is trying to be a hero, like his father. ”
Goodness, I hope so. That was better than any alternative Ginger could think of.
She nodded wordlessly and shut the door. Alastair would have to keep his ear close to the door to hear, but it was better than keeping it open and Federline’s man discovering him there listening.
A minute later, the sounds of voices and steps approached, and Victoria opened the door to the office. She seemed to have recovered her sense of control and she walked in slowly, shoulders drawn back.
The man behind her was no messenger, though, but Federline himself.
What in the world? How did he get to Cairo so quickly?
Ginger straightened and smoothed her hands over her skirt, crossing the space toward them. “Mr. Federline,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here, given that we parted from you in London so recently.”
He took in every inch of the room with sharp precision, his eyes reminding her of a cat’s, before his gaze swiveled to hers. “I’m able to fly to where I need quickly these days.”
Ah. Then he was enormously wealthy—and had resources at his disposal. Yet another way for him to flex his muscles. Who was this man? And why had Noah and Jack not told her anything about him?
“That must be quite a luxury,” Victoria snapped, her patience seeming to fray. She positioned herself beside Ginger. “Now where is my daughter?”
Federline frowned, then wandered over toward a wall, where Noah had hung a large map of the world to a corkboard.
“This is a nice home,” he said, touching the pins Clara had placed on the map the year before with an arrogance that rankled Ginger.
He turned toward Ginger and sized her up.
“It was your late father’s, right? Earl of Braddock.
The title seems cursed, though. Your father and brother shot dead. His heir—suicide a few years later?”
Ginger crossed her arms, feeling uneasy and exposed.
She didn’t like thinking about her father’s and brother’s deaths, which she’d not only witnessed but caused.
And Lucy’s first husband, William Thorne, had killed himself shortly after Lucy had abandoned him and he’d gone bankrupt, leaving no heir to the title.
But none of that was as concerning as the fact that Federline had taken the time to learn all of that about her family, digging up old skeletons she’d hoped would stay in the closet.
But why me? It’s Victoria’s daughter he’s holding.
As though he could read Ginger’s mind, Federline’s catlike eyes focused on Victoria.
“Though I guess Lord Reginald Helton’s story is more sordid.
An English gentleman sires an Egyptian prostitute’s whelp—then raises her to be his spy and informant.
To seduce men of influence and blackmail them.
” His lips smirked cruelly. “Though, it looks like he was a lucky man. His daughter had the looks for it. I’m sure you served him well. ”
A shiver of repulsion went through Ginger, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Enough. Your point is proven, Mr. Federline. Where’s this proof you promised to provide of Ivy’s well-being?”
He folded his hands in front of him, squaring his shoulders. “I’ve changed my mind. You’re in no position to negotiate, and I’m not feeling very generous at the moment.” He dusted the shoulder of his linen suit. “You just deliver my message to Jack—then we’ll talk.”
Victoria steadied herself on Ginger’s arm, the only tell that the news had hit her like a physical blow.
“We don’t know where Jack is,” Ginger said in a low, barely restrained voice. She hadn’t realized until then how much she needed that confirmation of Ivy’s well-being. Not only because she loved Ivy like a second daughter but because she was a link to Alex too.
Alex, where are you?
She wished she could transcend the ether, communicate with her son—or, for that matter, his father.
But she couldn’t let those fears derail her now.