For a long moment, Claude stood in the grass, looking up to his new acquaintance as she turned toward the ballrooms once more. He'd feared that he'd lost her; she'd be swept away in the crowd and he'd never find the identity of the young, masked woman who'd stolen his heart.<br/><br/>But then he saw a flutter of delicate silks and perhaps more of her legs than she intended for him to see. He blinked a few times, wanting to turn away for decency's sake, but the glimpse of stocking was an opportunity no young lad could very well resist. He didn't need to reply to her whisper; he knew she'd know when to take that jump.<br/><br/>As he saw that tangle of skirts plummeting over the rail, he moved forth to sweep her up into his arms, catching her and carrying her easily. Laughing quietly like a child with some secret stolen sweetmeats, he dashed along the garden paths to a darker, secluded area of the grounds. The light from the palace was faint; most of the illumination came from the moonlight above. The sounds of the music and crowd inside could still be heard as he fell back onto a stone bench with a louder laugh, the mystery woman ending up in his lap as he collapsed.<br/><br/>"Well, milady," he said, his hand creeping up along the back of her neck, under those ebony locks, "where were we?"