At this point in her tale, Lydia had gazed guardedly toward the door, as if she feared someone would do her harm. But then she'd again lapsed into the past. Clinging to his hand and calling him by his father's name, she'd begged his forgiveness for her lies.
His thoughts churning, Zach had faced the truth. This woman had given evidence against his father regarding a crime he hadn't committed. Her testimony had damned his father to imprisonment and permanent exile. Zach wondered if he could believe her… if he wanted to believe her?
In the end, Zach had known Tobias was right, that he'd come too far, risked too much, not to see it through after he'd found the one person who could tell him what had happened.
Lydia had sobbed out her grief, her tears falling onto his hand as she'd clasped it to her breast. That fateful day, she'd begged Charles to meet her in the library at Fair View. She was with child and needed desperately to talk to him about what was to be done. She'd stepped into the shadow of a bookcase as she heard him approach with Lord Barrington.
She heard the argument that followed, the violent words, the threats, and recriminations. She knew the moment the argument became physical, Lord Barrington striking his son for accusing him of favoring Alex. And she heard the final blow and saw Lord Clayton fall to the floor.
She'd watched, horrified, as the young man bent over his father. Looking up, his gaze had locked with hers, and Lydia had been certain she'd seen her own death in those dark, evil eyes.
Terrified by what she'd witnessed, she was easily convinced to keep quiet. The bribe Charles had offered was marriage and respectability. And so, Lydia had become his accomplice. Her statement had convicted Alex. For her reward, she'd expected to be Lady Barrington, but Charles had other plans. He had acquired almost everything once promised to his brother, but he wanted it all, including Felicia.
Sobbing, Lydia had collapsed back against her pillow, unable to tell him more. But Zach was now able to fill in the missing pieces.
When the trial was over and Alex was exiled for life, Charles Barrington had set out to win Felicia's hand. And he had. It seemed one Barrington was as good as another to that mysterious lady. As for his father, Zach knew that he'd never stopped loving her. Why else would he have kept that journal and the pendant all those years?
Now it was Jerrold Barrington who kept the family secrets, paying Lydia handsomely every month for her silence. The child Lydia had conceived by Charles Barrington had died shortly after birth. She'd never mourned its loss, feeling that it was really a blessing. And she'd continued to live her sad life, half-insane because the lie she'd told had sent the man she truly loved into exile.
Zach didn't hate her. He pitied her. Her life, like so many others, had been irrevocably changed by Charles Barrington's greed. And Jerrold Barrington was a willing participant in the cover-up of his father's crime. Why not, when the entire Barrington fortune and his right to inherit depended on his cooperation?
He had left Lydia to her memories and her madness. He'd paid the Snipe handsomely for taking him to her, and he'd given Tilly enough to put food on the table and coal in the stove for some time. She would no longer have to sell herself to make ends meet. Whatever was left to Lydia in this world or in the shadows of her mind, she could now afford to live in peace, free of Charles Barrington.
Zach was certain he'd dozed only a few minutes, but the dreams came anyway. In the last weeks, he'd been haunted by images out of his father's journal—the trial, the first months in New South Wales, the struggle to build a life at Resolute. The journal was his only link to the man his father had once been. And the dreams were so real that he could almost reach out and touch the things his father had described.
Lys. A dream? A memory?
Zach jerked awake, the memory slipping into the dark corners of his mind. His senses cleared slowly.
He rose and stretched, frowning at the time on the ship's clock as the sound came again. Sandy and the others must be returning early. He'd thought it would take them longer to make the necessary arrangements.
Stepping into the passageway outside his cabin, he heard it once more. The sound seemed to come from the forward hold. He walked to the end of the passage. There were two storage areas—one forward, one aft—to give theRevengemore even keel in the water. With the loss of the wool, both were now empty except for supplies they would need for the voyage home. But still the sound came from inside.
Zach unbolted the door and pushed it open, shining the lantern into the hold. It was cool, dark, and faintly musty. Light pooled on the smooth sides of the ship. A ladder reached high overhead to the closed hatch. The gold would be stored there when it was safely aboard.
He returned to his cabin and splashed cold water over his face. He stared into the small mirror above the washstand, searching for answers in the eyes that stared back at him.
Ever since he'd begun his voyage, he'd felt compelled to pursue something. It went beyond finding out the truth about his father. There was more. He sensed it, but didn't understand it. He threw the cotton cloth down beside the basin of water. By morning he would have taken the first step in his revenge against Barrington for his father.
The night was steeped in darkness, the moon being obscured by a thick layer of clouds. There was no light to mark the passage of the two heavily laden transport wagons bearing the markings of the Argosy Freight Company.
The guards that rode in the back were quickly silenced, their limp bodies slumping to the street. Others took care of the drivers.
The Raven emerged from the shadows with his men, only the flash of a dangerous smile revealed any of the emotions among the pirates.
Quick, efficient hands affixed new signs over the company emblem and name. And six unconscious forms were bound, gagged, and placed into the two identical Argosy crates sitting in a third wagon. A new driver climbed aboard; two new guards took their places at the back of each wagon.
The seventh man gave a silent signal and watched as each wagon took off in a separate direction, disappearing into the darkness. Their destination was the same, but for safety they would take separate routes. Satisfying himself that they were well out of sight, he pulled on the bell rope at the loading dock.
The Argosy foreman had been expecting the signal. He opened the small side door and peered out, a frown lining his forehead.
"Eh? What's this? There were supposed to be two crates." The last man, tall on the straight wagon seat, dressed all in black, nodded and gestured back to the two crates.
The foreman came down the steps and looked into the back of the wagon. He grunted his satisfaction, then gestured to a man inside to set the pulley of the large gate in motion. It creaked open.
Urging the horses forward, the driver reined them to a halt inside the warehouse.
"Have any trouble?" the foreman inquired.
