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The man’s grin was shark-like. “Ah, the gentry are too polite to stare. I give credit where it’s due.”
Bertram crossed to over to the bar, smiling even though he was still in turmoil. “Well, I will say that everyone was remarkably well behaved tonight. Not one inquired of me why I would have a dark-skinned Moor at my dinner party.” He poured brandy in two glasses and passed one to the other man.
“Perhaps they thought I was the entertainment.” The gentleman took his glass with a nod of thanks.
The Duke laughed. “You may be right. In that case I suppose they were rather disappointed, Mr. Bull.”
“Oh, call me Thomas. Everyone does. Mr. Bull is my father.”
“Very well. And you may call me Bertram.”
“Indeed? What an honor, Your Grace.”
“Considering the business we are about to embark on, I think we can dispense with formality.”
“I suppose we can at that. There’s nothing less formal than piracy after all.” The man’s deep baritone rumbled in the room as he laughed. Bertram’s smile widened into something more genuine.
“No, I suppose there’s not.”
Thomas took a deep breath. “So, you have me here, have scandalized your neighbors, buttered me up with food. Now tell me what you need from me.”
Bertram turned to face him, swirling the liquid in his glass. “Despite your slightly unsavory occupation as a pirate, word has it that you’re a loyal and patriotic Englishman.”
Thomas’ lip twisted. “Who’s word?”
Bertram’s smile widened. “Various people we spoke to. Would you disagree with that assessment?”
Thomas inclined his head. “I’m a pragmatic man, England has been good for my pockets. So please, do continue.”
Before Bertram could say a word, there was a knock at the door and the footman he’d sent to find Letty opened the door. He glanced dismissively at Thomas before fixing his eyes on Bertram.
“Your Grace, I have some news.”
