Willow stands in my periphery. “I’ll just go and … um. Anyway, I’ll be on my way.”
“Good. I don’t know why you’re here, anyway. Don't bother coming back,” Father snipes, his eyes following her.
She slips sideways behind me, quickly leaving the room until there’s nothing but me in my father’s way. “Pleasant, Father. As always.” He tips his chin up, sneering at the door she's just passed through. “Willow’s lovely. Leave her alone.”
“I expect better from you, Ivy. You know exactly what she is. I thought you, at least, would be able to see the sycophantic gold diggers a mile off.”
“Oh, stop being such an arse, would you? Get over it and give her a break.”
“Don't you dare speak to me like that.”
“Well, since I was kidnapped yesterday, and only just made it out with my life thanks to Blake, I deserve a little leeway. If you even think about treating him the way you are doing Willow, it won't just be one daughter you'll lose.” His back goes rigid, the scowl dropping that I've rarely seen directed at me. “And while we're getting it all out there, that dead author sent me everything regarding this family that she dug up before she died. All sorts of paperwork regarding this company and the generations of it before us. And birth certificates, marriage licences and notes. I’ve been trying to figure it out. We’ve been fighting the Foxtons for generations. Is there a connection here? I need to know. I'm finding out one way or another, so spill.”
He looks surprised for a split second then swerves around the other side of the table, attempting to get away from me that way instead. Not happening.
I walk to the door and close it, my frame leaning back on it to prove my point. “You’ve avoided this for too long, Father. Please. Tell me whatever it is that you know.”
“It’s simply a grudge, Ivy. I don’t know why both you and Landon are so fixated on it. Has anyone managed to get hold of Neve yet?”
“And a simple grudge would mean that your youngest child couldn’t be happy with the man she loves generations later?” I walk forward, knowing there has to be more than just that. “I’m not backing down on this. Neve will turn up soon enough.”
“Ivy, you've had barely any sleep and are clearly fractious about everything that's happened. Why don't you wait until you're thinking sensibly? Surely finding your sister is more important than discussions about the past.” He walks towards me, both his hands coming to my shoulders again firmly. I'm pulled into his hold, a warm hug enveloping me. “I thought I'd lost you for a moment there.”
For a second or two, I enjoy it. I enjoy all the memories associated with the feel of his arms around me. Pride in my achievements at school. Love for his eldest daughter. Happiness when I topped the board for my media and journalism degree at university. And then I remember that he still gave his company to Landon rather than me, regardless of every bloody achievement.
Pointless.
I shirk out of his hold and stare at him, considering the distraction he's just tried for. “I'm not that easy to fool, Father. Talk.”
He sighs and looks out to the garden. “The short answer? I really do have to go.”
“Fine.”
“The Brodericks and the Foxtons used to work together in business—your Great-Great-Grandfather William’s time. The Foxtons took an opportunity to outmanoeuvre us back then, causing a catastrophic failure in the company. We lost everything because of it.”
“And we've been fighting them ever since just because of that?”
He snarls, looks as if he's about to blow. “Notjust, Ivy. Where is your pride? They destroyed us. How dare you try to dismiss the veracity of our history.”
“Like,150 yearsago. And we don't seem to have done too bad since then.”
“Because I've worked damned hard to show them what we're made of, as did your grandfather. And his father before him. You never met my grandparents, but they had to endure. My grandfather started from nothing and began rebuilding so we could be the success we are today. And Landon will continue that legacy if he keeps his head in the game rather than …” He trails off, turning to walk to the view again. “Anyway, that's the basic story. I'm just glad you're safe.”
“Do you think this kidnapping is to do with the Foxtons?”
“I don't know."
“Okay. And what do you know about a George Broderick?”
He turns slowly to look back at me again. “Who?” His eyes narrow at me, but I can’t read if he’s genuinely not sure or just masking his reaction.
“The birth certificates show a George Broderick. I saw it yesterday in the papers the author sent to me. But I've never heard of a George in the family.”
He frowns and turns away from me. “There was talk of an affair years ago. Your great-great-grandmother. The child she had was … mentally challenged, I believe, and died young. Perhaps that's the one you're talking about.”
“And what about—”
“Look, Ivy. This has gone on long enough. I'm going to be put forward as a member of Parliament today, and if I don't get to Rodger Asquith byeleven sharp, I'm going to embarrass myself and this family.” I don't care. I want more details so I can solve this mystery and what he's said is nowhere near enough. “Phone Neve now and get her to come home. Or, at the very least, deign us with her voice, so we know she's safe.”
