The earl signaled his agreement by lowering his weapon. “I’m assuming you’re going to tell me about the military importance of medical botanicals,” he said. “I’ve already worked out the ramifications of Becton’s discovery for myself. What I can’t quite piece together is why, given the current conflict between our governments, Britain and America would be working together on it. Unless, of course, it’s to keep it out of French hands.”
“Becton?”Daggett shook his head. “No, my mission has nothing to do with Becton or botany.”
Wrexford stared at him in disbelief.
The captain drew a measured breath. “It’s all about slavery.”
“Slavery?”The earl was momentarily nonplussed.
“More specifically, the trafficking of those unfortunate souls captured and sold into bondage in Africa, and then transported as chattel to the West Indies and America.”
“But Britain banned that trade five years ago!” exclaimed Wrexford. “And if memory serves me correctly, your country also passed an act prohibiting the importation of enslaved souls.”
“That’s correct, milord,” said Daggett. “Like Britain, America abolished the Atlantic slave trade in 1807. However, the sale of human beings is still permitted within our borders.”
“Bloody hell.” Wrexford felt a little shaken that he and Charlotte had gotten everything so bungled. “So you’re saying that DeVere and Quincy were involved inthat?”
“Yes, they were up to their elegant necks in it,” affirmed Daggett. “Quincy’s cousin owns vast plantations and many enslaved souls in South Carolina. And Quincy himself possessed the shipping expertise and logistical skills to plan an illegal voyage that promised to yield a staggering profit. As for DeVere, he had a nose for making money, and provided the funding to put the plan in motion, in return for a share of the ill-gotten gains. Their plot is too complicated to explain at this moment. Suffice it to say, the three ringleaders each possessed an expertise that allowed them to create a devilishly clever smuggling plan whose sophisticated logistics made it infallible.”
The captain clenched his jaw for a moment. “All the pieces fell in place for them when Reginald Lyman, a sea captain for hire, agreed to transport the human cargo from Africa. I got wind of the plans over a year ago, and my government has had me posing as a malcontent, looking to become a secret partner with Lyman by offering my position in the United States Navy to his advantage.”
“I take it your plan worked,” murmured Wrexford.
“Yes. It was then that my government made overtures to your Foreign Office about catching all of the miscreants in the act. Regardless of our differences, our two countries are united in stopping the terrible trafficking of humans from Africa to America and the West Indies.” A pause. “And apparently, your senior officials hold a grudge against Lyman for acts they can’t prove.”
“A betrayal of our fighting men on the Peninsula,” offered Wrexford. “Lyman is suspected of having ferried gold to pay Napoleon’s army, no matter that his payment was awash in the blood of his countrymen.”
“So you know of him,” mused Daggett. “A scoundrel, if ever there was one.”
“Indeed,” said the earl. “And I’m aware that a chest of money was sent to him from Quincy’s ship when it landed here in London.”
Daggett raised his brows. “How do you know—”
“I have my sources within the dockyards, among other places,” interrupted Wrexford. “And have been using them to try to discover who murdered Josiah Becton.”
It was the captain’s turn to look shocked. “I was under the impression that he died of natural causes.”
“That’s the official announcement. However, the truth is, he was poisoned, and his important medical discovery—one that had not yet been revealed—has gone missing, along with the plant specimen involved in his research.”
Wrexford let his words sink in, before adding, “Given your knowledge in botany, I imagine you can comprehend how valuable a miracle cure for malaria would be to those who possessed the secret of its formula.”
A gust of wind tugged at the documents in Daggett’s hands.
“However, Becton was going to announce his discovery, and make it public, rather than create a business consortium to make untold riches selling it.”
The captain let out a grunt. “Ye heavens, I knew he was giving the keynote lecture. But I had no idea what he was planning to reveal.”
“Quincy and DeVere knew of Becton’s discovery—they all belonged to the same scientific society in New York,” continued Wrexford. “They tried to get him to join in a business venture to sell his medicine, but he refused. I assumed they murdered him and stole his papers and plants in order to form a consortium of their own. I’ve been trying to prove it, and the trail led to a connection with Lyman. But after last night . . .” He lifted his shoulders in bafflement. “I confess, nothing is making any sense.”
Daggett nodded. “My assumptions are all knocked to flinders as well. I don’t know how or why the plans have changed, but I’m quite certain the answers all lie with Lyman.” He hesitated. “You see, Quincy and DeVere were murdered by Adderley, who was employed by Quincy. And one of the discoveries I made this morning is that Adderley is Lyman’s cousin.”
The American shifted his stance and glanced at the half-hidden sun. “Even more important, I also learned that Lyman’s ship is readying to sail today. I’ve been trying to locate where it is berthed . . . that is, assuming he didn’t manage to sail out on the earlier ebb tide.”
Wrexford shoved his pistol into his pocket and gave a sharp whistle for the others, hoping that Charlotte would have sense enough to keep her head down and stay silent. “If he’s still here, we’ll find him.”
“Don’t be so sure of that. It seems that half the world’s commerce passes in and out of these dratted docklands—” Daggett stopped short as Sheffield skidded to a halt and raised his pistol.
“You can put your weapon away, Kit,” counseled the earl. “It appears Captain Daggett is on our side.”
