It is not a perfect plan, and I do worry, but if we are going to pull this off, we will need to do it together.

While I have been to many balls and parties in my life, very few were in the countryside. I grew up in London, and my social circle is there. The closest a Londoner usually comes to a country party is one held just outside the city, with grounds for perambulation. I might have claimed to have attended the Midsummer Ball at Courtenay Hall, but that is a lie. First, the earl no longer holds it. Second, the earl would never invite the unsuitable sister of his unsuitable sister-in-law. Third, the earl does not even visit Courtenay Hall any longer, having ceded that right to August. I have, however, attended dinner parties there and many picnics—my sister and her husband being very fond of intimate gatherings.

All this is to say that I do not quite know what to expect from tonight’s dance. Also, it is fifty years before any party I have ever attended, and customs will have changed. Nicolas knows no more about Yorkshire country society affairs than I do. Oddly, pirates are rarely invited, even if they come from noble stock.

I do know to expect something less formal than I am accustomed to, and if I did not realize that from Emily’s casual invitation, I know it when I am able to walk up to the door and no one wonders where my coach is. There are costumed guests spilling over the lawn, and none notice my arrival. The sun has already set, and the grounds are dimly lit with lanterns.

In size and grandeur, the Norrington estate is midway between that of the Thornes and that of the Courtenays, and again, this is what I would expect. I believe Lord Thorne would occupy the same social status as Lord Norrington, but Thorne Manor is a country estate. Norrington Hall is a primary residence, and as such, it has a central house and outbuildings set on acres of land where generations of gardeners have fought a losing battle to transform the moors into a proper English lawn.

The house is impressive, and I wonder that I have not seen it on hikes in my time. Has it been torn down? Do the Norrington fortunes evaporate when the current lord is financially destroyed by the very people whose livelihoods he sought to destroy? That would be a delicious twist to the story, but the truth may simply be that I have not spent enough time in this part of the moors to notice the house.

It is a three-story affair of brownish-gray stone set in the shape of an H. A massive drive circles around the front, and every window is alight with candles, flickering in the gathering dark.

I said that no one notices my arrival. That is not entirely true. Emily does. She must be on watch for me because I have barely reached the gathering when she flies from the house.