They would enter the house and be announced by the man at the door taking the invitations. Everyone gave pause and there were many surprised gazes upon the normally sedately dressed Amelia. When she handed her wrap over to a servant, she was quick to put her hand upon his arm once more and gaze at him with a smile. Inside of the large hall were about four dozen eccentrics, all in various forms of interesting dress, though all elegantly attired. It would soon become evident by a conversation they would end up overhearing about the supernatural.

They were ghost enthusiasts. People who snuck onto properties in search of answers, people who practiced table tipping. In fact, there was one older gentleman that stood out, a loud guffaw given. "Welcome to the Whitby Ghost Society's Soiree," she whispered with a grin as some of Constance's friends migrated their way for greeting.

At her whispers, Nate's heart sank. It was like he was back in court speaking before a judge who did not think fondly of his skills as a barrister and was likely to be hostile to him. His face also sank. As a rational man, he had no time or inclination towards spirits or ghouls. If it was not tangible evidence, he did not wish to entertain it. Unfortunately, he had no choice but to smile and feign interest because Miss Mason was looking so ravishing tonight.

She saw his face fall and cringed just before the sound of a very nasaly voice. Constance had told her about this man. He was rather eccentric but he was very rich. It wasn't about the ghosts for Amelia, it was about the old man who needed a man he could trust. She was slightly hurt but bit her tongue, sort of losing a little luster as she introduced the men. "Mister Nate Appleton, let me introduce you to Miles Johnson." She hoped the name might jolt some interest in her bridegroom. "He is Constance's oldest friend, and this is his abode. Mister Johnson, may I introduce my fiance, Mister Nate Appleton?" She swept her arm in a grand gesture to show him the house that was filled from floor to ceiling with opulence. She'd not even look to see if it'd dawn on him why he was actually there.

"Sometimes," she said softly to Nate after they were headed inward and the greetings had been made, "You have to play their games to win the best prizes. I know this is an odd thing I am asking you to... participate in... But let me tell you about the old man." She lifted her palm and offered the pencil, "Write your name in for the waltz and then I won't let anyone but you claim the next dance. Take your time," she softly instructed so he could write his name in for the number that was designated a waltz.

"Nice to meet you" Nate flashed the tiniest of winning smiles, that were so popular in London.

Like all members of the legal profession, Nate was morally flexible. He had no firm code of ethics that precluded the taking of one case or client from another. Orphanage or mill owner, Nate's justice was blind. The only exceptions were if said client had a history of not paying fees. So, for the prize of a lifetime with a beautiful wife, Nate would gladly believe in ghosts for an evening.

"Of course" He took the stub of a pencil and scribbled on her card. Now how did a waltz go?

While he wrote, she said, "He is a widower and he is ancient, as you can see. His grief led him to become the eccentric that he is." She paused and smiled as he finished his name. "He has no children to speak of, as his wife had died in child birth. He's vulnerable and needs a lawyer that is trustworthy, and he will pay handsomely for your time according to Constance. He is trying to leave a good deal of his wealth to various charitable institutions to help children in various ways. His nephew is a greedy little crook, I know this for a fact since he seemed eager to make my acquaintance when I was companion."

She placed her hand upon his arm, and she said, "The waltz isn't for a while yet, and I am not ready yet to dance." She led him to the terrace, a place she was actually rather fond of. Assuming he came along with her, she would stop at the edge of the stone paved area before it turned into a path leading into a rather lovely garden, a tribute to the woman who forever kept his heart if the statue of a woman with her child standing firmly beneath an arch of climbing roses. Depending on the time of the year, they were a sight to behold.

Her eyes went a bit distant and she began to tell him all that she knew to be true, "I've asked discreetly and most people I've talked to have said that if his nephew gets a hold of as much money as he has, he would squander it away against his wishes. I think it would be to your benefit to defend his wishes, Nate," she murmured, "I was hoping you would take the opportunity to simply observe for yourself. I am sorry that I didn't tell you before but there wasn't time. Besides, this is a condition of the will for me to play along as well. I have to respect her wishes and helping him would make me happy anyhow."

As the details of the man's life were laid plain, Nate nodded delibrately. He handed back the card and pencil as facts and morsels of information started to coallese into a plan. The band struck up a tune that Nate did not care to dance to, and the two of them began to walk away from the group towards the outer edges of the party on the terrace. As they walked, his line of questioning would be that the gentleman was old, frail, and thus vunerable.

No jury in the Empire would stay hardened against an old man beset by greedy family desperate for their share. Presented correctly, the sympathy would flow like water as jurors imagined their very own 'dear ol' Da' or 'Grandad' weeping in the dock. And yes, this would please Amelia... which in turn might speed her into his bed.

"That's so sad." he said.

"Yes, it is," she poked gently at him and then turned toward the statues, lapsing into silence. She didn't want to be there either, but she had to do what she was bid by the will in order to rightfully own the house and everything in it, the vast fortune. She was tired from all of this. Her frown was soft on her face even as the strain of music shifted and dancers filtered throughout the ballroom to various places, some even coming toward the terrace. She put a slight smile on her face and placed her hand over his arm once again. "Thank you, Nate," she murmured even still, just for his understanding. She finally gazed at him, looking as if she wished he would kiss her again but not daring to voice her attraction so boldly when others came outside and started to traverse the walkway.

It was an unwritten rule of the legal profession that a barrister never asked a question that he did not already know the answer to, lest he not only look a fool but also hand the case over to his 'honourable friend' the opposing counsel. So it was with such a mind that Nate answered Amelia.

"You're welcome." In truth he could be welcome for any one of many things from being on her arm tonight, humouring her at this spectral soiree, or rescuing her from a life of abject poverty by marrying her. Yet in the comparative privacy of the terrace, Nate could indulge his ignorance. Who was she to tell "for what exactly?"

"For giving this a go even though I saw your face when I brought it up," she said as she reached over and adjusted his lapel. "I know that you're in for a lot of surprises with all of this, and I am only trying to do what the will wants me to do. I should have brought it to you so you could read it. She was clear on what she wanted, her friends were important to her and I think she is wanting my help to make sure they are fine with her gone." She brushed an imaginary hair off of his arm and then sighed, "I'm not exactly keen on the ghosts and ghouls, but it won't hurt to observe for one night. So thank you that you didn't run the moment you heard this would involve such fripperies." In fact, him doing so seemed to have made her appreciative enough to start warming up again. She was close enough to kiss now.