“Last spring.”
Sidmouth paused to take another gulp of his brandy. “By that point we’d started receiving complaints from other prominent colonial figures. It was obvious that something needed to be done. But Oliphant has some powerful backers, which limited my ability to act. I told Stanley that if he wanted Oliphant recalled, he needed to find something else—something less personal and more injurious to the interests of the Crown.”
“That’s when Preston went out to Jamaica himself?”
“Yes. He was determined to dig up something he could use.”
“And he found it?”
“He did. To be frank, I could scarcely believe it at first. I mean, bribery and corruption are one thing. But flaunting the laws against the slave trade is something else entirely.”
“You’re saying Oliphant was involved in slave running?”
Sidmouth nodded. “It’s become extraordinarily lucrative, now that the slave trade has been shut down.”
Sebastian doubted a slave owner like Stanley Preston would have had any personal moral objections to such activities. But the discovery would have served his purposes very well.
“The evidence was damning enough that Oliphant agreed to return to London,” Sidmouth was saying. “That should have satisfied Stanley—it would have any normal man. But not my cousin. He was determined to see formal charges brought against Oliphant. Except then . . .” Sidmouth’s voice trailed off.
“Yes?” prompted Sebastian.
“Last Saturday—the day before Stanley was killed—I ran into him in St. James’s Street. Frankly, I was rather chagrined to see him, since he’d taken to seizing every opportunity—however inappropriate—to pester me about Oliphant. But to my surprise, he said he was dropping the entire affair. I was stunned.”
“Did he say why?”
“No. But he was behaving most peculiarly—very unlike himself.”
“In what sense?”
“I think he was frightened. Which puzzled me, because Stanley Preston was not a man who frightened easily. But he was afraid that day, and I think he was afraid of Lord Oliphant.”
Sebastian studied the Home Secretary’s strained features. “Have you ever heard of a man named Diggory Flynn?”
“Who?”
“Diggory Flynn—a rather disheveled individual with an oddly lopsided face. I could be wrong, but I believe he works for Sinclair Oliphant.”
Sidmouth’s heavy jaw went oddly slack. “A lopsided face, you say?”
“That’s right. Have you seen him?”
“No.” Sidmouth shook his head. “No. No.”
But Sebastian noticed his hand was far from steady as he brought his brandy to his lips and drained the glass.
Sinclair, Lord Oliphant, was standing beside the E.O. table in a gaming hell near Portland Square when Sebastian came up to him.
“We need to talk,” said Sebastian. “Walk outside with me for a moment.”
Oliphant kept his gaze on the spinning ball before him. “I think not. Whatever you have to say to me can be said here.”
“You might change your mind when you hear that the topic of conversation is slave running.” The E.O. ball fell into one of the bar slots, and Sebastian said, “You lose anyway.”
“Actually, I’ve yet to place a bet.” Oliphant’s habitual, faint smile never slipped. But his blue eyes narrowed and hardened, and he turned to walk out of the gaming hell’s dim, smoky atmosphere into the startlingly clear, crisp night.
“Now, what is this about?” he demanded as they descended the front steps.
“I’ve just been listening to an interesting tale—about how you used your position as governor of Jamaica to cheat Stanley Preston out of a valuable section of his land. He swore to make you pay, and he did—by discovering that in addition to the usual bribery and corruption so common amongst Britain’s colonial governors, you were also dabbling in the slave trade.”
“The accusations were baseless,” Oliphant said calmly as the two men turned their steps toward the square, “which is why no charges were ever filed.”
“Yet you did return to London.”
Oliphant shrugged. “The islands have a certain appeal, I’ll not deny. But after a time, ennui sets in. I was more than ready to return to England.”
“And Preston had nothing to do with it? Is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s right.”
Sebastian shook his head. “I think Preston wasn’t content with having you quietly removed from the governorship. I think he was determined to see you publicly disgraced, and that’s why you killed him.”
Oliphant gave a brittle laugh and swung to face him. “Do you seriously think I would allow some upstart merchant’s grandson to drive me from a post I wished to retain? Me? An Oliphant of Calgary Hall? Hardly. I tell you, the charges were unproven.”