Page 115 of An Imperfect Scoundrel

Had he been shot?

He froze as if the same thought traveled through his mind, then his mouth twisted into an evil grin.

“You missed.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CEDRIC/CHARLES

“Which longboat is missing?” Cedric asked, finding Mr. Hayward searching the aft of the ship.

“Starboard side,” he replied, his voice low. “The middle one, making it less obvious. If I hadn’t tied the ropes myself, I wouldn’t have realized the boat was gone.”

“I can’t fathom the pairing,” Cedric said as they strode toward the railing. “Perhaps Mr. Johnson owed a debt that he couldn’t pay.”

“I suspected the same, but why collect early?” Mr. Hayward asked.

Cedric’s gaze swept the ocean. The rising sun glinted off the waves, painting the water in a rainbow of color. His eyes flicked to an outcropping of land blocking the remaining portion of the shoreline.

“There are no visible boats.”

“At least four hours. That’s how long it would take to row around the point.” Mr. Hayward pointed at a blank space where the longboat used to hang.

Leaning over the railing, Cedric grasped one of the loose ropes, then dragged the hemp up over the side and inspected the end. He held out the frayed piece. “It’s been cut.”

“With Mr. Johnson’s dull knife.”

They shared a grimace.

How long would they be able to hide this from the crew?

“Someone’s bound to notice the hostages are missing,” murmured Cedric.

Unwinding one of the ropes from the railing, Mr. Hayward squinted at him. “How do you intend to deal with that?”

“We still have two ladies aboard.” Cedric moved beside him and unwrapped a second rope.

“You’re suggesting we claim Mrs. Parker and Mrs. Dubois are hostages?” Mr. Hayward’s eyebrows hovered near his hairline.

“Yes.”

“They’ll recognize her name.”

“Not if we address her by her father’s name.”

“Which you happened to know?”

Cedric nodded but didn’t reply, methodically unwinding the rope until he freed the cord from the railing.

“How?”

“I know her brother.” Bending down, Cedric collected the rope into a loose pile. He rose, hefted the hemp over the side, and leaned over the railing watching the cord sink beneath the ocean.

“Captain, I’m not one to comment on a man’s affairs…”

“Then don’t,” Cedric growled, whipping toward him.

Mr. Hayward snapped his mouth shut, bent down, and gathered his rope, which he also flung over the side.