Page 65 of An Imperfect Scoundrel
Unlike Mr. Hayward, who made no comment regarding Cedric’s treatment of his cabin boy, Mr. Evans noticed—and smirked—at Mr. Dubois location.
“Did you discover the thief?” asked Cedric, ignoring the groans that poured from Mr. Dubois as he detangled himself from the chair legs.
“No.”
“No?” Cedric couldn’t hide his disbelief. “Did you examine both trunks and persons?”
“We did.” Mr. Evans’ gaze flicked to Mr. Dubois. “There are only two men aboard who we haven’t investigated, Mr. Dubois and you.”
His eyebrows rose. “Am I a suspect?”
“No, Captain,” Mr. Evans hastily replied.
“I’m pleased to hear that.” Cedric glanced at Mr. Dubois, who’d righted the chair and sat down, warily watching the conversation. “I fail to see how my cabin boy would manage to take that many items, especially with a cannonball chained to his leg.”
Mr. Evans nodded. “I will continue to search for the thief.”
“Inform me once you discover the name,” Cedric replied. His gaze flicked to Mr. Dubois. “I know you’re impatient to have that cuff wrapped around your ankle again, but we’re wanted on deck.”
If Mr. Dubois could have shot Cedric with his own pistol as he passed, he would have. Cedric recognized the murderous intent in the man’s eyes.
“Try it,” Cedric murmured, pinning Mr. Dubois against the doorframe with his forearm.
“Not with a witness,” he muttered, his gaze flicking to Mr. Evans’ back.
“I like you drunk, Dubois.” Releasing him, he shoved him forward. “It makes you honest and a touch violent. You’d make a good pirate. Perhaps I’ll give you to Evans as a gift when he becomes captain.”
“If you think my reluctance to kill you would extend to him, you’re quite mistaken,” Mr. Dubois said over his shoulder.
“I would never do you that disservice.”
When they stepped onto the main deck, Cedric was met by Mr. Hayward, who pulled him back into the small corridor.
“Are you missing any items?” Mr. Hayward’s eyes glowed.
“I haven’t looked.” Cedric frowned, unnerved by his first mate’s intensity. “Why do you ask?”
“Mr. Evans said none of the crew has the items.”
He was accusing Mr. Dubois as well.
“Come,” Cedric said, turning toward his cabin.
He opened the door, strode over to the armoire, and jerked open the front, nearly tearing off one of the hinges in his haste. Bending down, he rooted through the contents of the bottom shelf, digging through a pile of shirts and shoving his hand into the far recesses of the decrepit furniture, searching for the sack of gold.
His fingers touched a bare shelf.
“It’s gone.” Standing, Cedric ripped his pistol free and pulled back the hammer. “I’ll kill him myself!”
With Mr. Hayward trailing behind, Cedric emerged from the officer’s corridor blazing with anger. Men parted before him, the heat of his ire forcing them aside, as he searched for Mr. Dubois, discovering him standing by the portside railing.
Mr. Dubois turned as Cedric reached him, but had no time to react before Cedric swung, smacking him across the face with the pistol. He cried out, grabbing his check, and doubled over, agony spewing from his lips.
Grabbing hold of him, Cedric lifted Mr. Dubois from the deck and leaned over the railing, holding him out over the water. Mr. Dubois screamed, his fingers digging into Cedric’s arms.
“I have given you more forgiveness than any other man in my employ,” Cedric snarled, vibrating with fury. “Tell me why I shouldn’t throw you overboard right now.”
“Please don’t drop me,” Mr. Dubois begged, tears streaming down his face.
