Lord Westley's search was proving quite fruitless, he had to admit. He had yet to spot a single woman that appeared to be the one he was searching for. This bloody masquerade is to blame, he thought almost bitterly. Regardless, he knew he would look rather suspicious if he simply stood off to the side dancing with no one.

Reaching up to his forehead to where he would normally brush some of his curls away, he paused. Most of his curls had been tucked away beneath his black hat, to better conceal his identity, and his mask obscured most of his face to hide his wrinkling forehead. He wondered wryly once again if the long nose of his black mask would be able to poke some lady's eye out and shook his head a little, even allowing himself a tiny little smile across his lips. After all, if he was disguised, why had he need to act exactly like himself? That would rather ruin all the fun of being a different person that night, one with a shrouded identity.

Finally deciding that he indeed would search for a dancing partner, he scanned the room with those dark eyes of his, brows furrowed beneath his mask. Now then, which would he choose? He spotted a particularily lovely lady, in his opinion, and hesitated for only a moment before he began to fluidly cross the room toward her, rather curious if she would notice him as he did so or not.

Lucy was enjoying herself much more on this night than she had on the barge. Partially due to the fact that she had only just arrived at Court in time for the barge, but moreso because she was so much more involved with her fellow courtiers tonight. Already she had danced with several charming Lords, making light conversation although she had not yet recognized anyone as a previous acquaintance. On this night, it made no difference...stranger, friend, or lover, all were equal on the dance floor, as all were equally masked.

She curtsied to her latest partner as the vibrant strains of music died away. He had been quite enjoyable, certainly, but dancing two dances in a row with anyone would have started rumors which she was unwilling to risk, especially having absolutely no idea of her partner's identity. So she merely smiled cordially at her partner and turned away, her white skirts swishing around her.

As she made her way through the crowd on the dance floor, debating whether or not she felt like finding herself something to drink, she caught sight of a man approaching her. He was dressed all in black, giving him a somewhat mysterious air, though the long nose of his mask added an almost comical touch which spoiled the effect, in her opinion.

Still, he seemed interested, not to mention interesting, and Lucy had not yet turned down a dance tonight and would not now if he were to ask. So she waited, her eyes following him boldly as he came closer to her...she would not normally have been so forward, she would have more likely acted as though she had not seen him until he spoke first, but her mask gave her a feeling almost of invincibility.

Dancing in this woman would no doubt draw many eyes. Not only did she appear to be lovely, though such a thing could not be drawn while masks were being worn, but she was clad in white. In his dark attire, the two would provide a rather lovely contrast, in his opinion: light and dark, black and white, even good and evil, in a way. Whether she would be worth his time, however, would be for him to see, though he had promised himself that he would not be so blunt tonight. Such a thing would ruin the mystery of his appearance, perhaps even identify him to a few of his fellow courtiers. Such a thing would be simply ridiculous.

He finally drew to a stop before her, tilting his head a little to the side. He stared down at her for only a moment of silence before he bowed to her grandly, almost in exaggeration. He rose back up to his true height, looking down at her with his ever-sparkling dark eyes. "May I have this dance, my lady?" He nearly crooned the words in his deep voice, lifting a brow beneath his mask. He had no doubt that this woman would accept his offer. After all, he hadn't seen a single offer be spurned throughout the night no matter who offered to whom. After all, in his opinion, he looked rather striking, mask and all. What woman would turn him down?

He extended one of his large hands to her, his calloused fingers beckoning to her slightly as he tilted his head a little further. Come, now...

The man in black with the nose - for that was how Lucy had mentally begun to refer to him - had indeed stopped in front of her, bowed extravagantly, and asked for a dance. Lucy's eyes sparkled at the idea of another dance so soon, a pastime which she both adored and excelled at. Though she had been raised in the country, her mother was the daughter of an Earl, and so had made absolutely certain that Lucy had been instructed in all the arts she deemed both proper and necessary for a lady of Lucy's status - or, more accurately, a lady of the status to which Lucy's mother believed her deserving; she had never forgotten that she was an Earl's daughter, and had always treated Lucy as though she were the same, fit only to marry a man of at least that rank. While her mother's attitude had been exceedingly wearisome to Lucy all her life, especially as she herself had no aspirations of marrying into such an elevated rank, she had dearly loved the dancing lessons, and had grown adept at each new step (having already possessed naturally the necessary grace of movement) quickly enough to satisfy even her mother's impossibly high standards.

She could not suppress a bit of a grin, however, at the tone in which the man spoke - a deep, assured drawl, accompanied with a confident lift of his eyebrow which told Lucy that he had no doubt whatsoever that she would accept him. His offer had not been so much of a question as an assumption, an assumption that no one would dare refuse him. When he held out his hand to her, she could almost hear him thinking: And here is yet another woman, falling straight into my arms just like all the rest. For a moment, she was strongly tempted to refuse him...after all, it needn't be a flat out refusal to dance; she could plead exhaustion, or say she needed something to wet her throat, or tell him she had plans to meet with someone else. The only problem there was that she knew she could never offer any of those excuses with a straight face, knowing them to be complete untruths; and an outright refusal would only mark her out among all the other courtiers as a woman who disdained the courtly art of dancing, or else simply lacked a decent ladylike sense of what was right and proper - neither of which was a reputation she desired. And she did so love to dance!

Lucy took his proffered hand with a smile, noticing in passing how calloused his fingertips were - was he a fellow musician? She would have to find an opportunity to ask. "It would be my pleasure, my Lord," she said in reply, allowing him to draw her into the dance.

The sparkling of the woman's eyes was certainly not lost on Lord Westley. If anything, it only made his glimmer all the fiercer. The grin that lifted across her lips, which Westley's eyes momentarily dropped to, made him wonder if he had simply pleased or amused her. His eyes lifted back to her own as he tried to diagnose exactly what he had done to make her react in such a way. Was she shy and innocent, and therefore thrilled at the prospect of a man dancing with her? Was she cocky and self-assured, a painted peacock with a sort of amusement that yet another man was asking for her hand? Westley had to admit, for once, that he was completely unsure. Regardless, after only a few moments of hesitation, she took his proffered hand with a softly spoken phrase, and Westley began to lead her onto the dance floor.

After a few steps backwards, with which he took the opportunity to observe what he could of her hair and face with that air of confidence still rolling off of him, he turned a bit to be sure that he wouldn't be running into a couple and causing a chain reaction of falls. He had to admit that it wouldn't be altogether bad if the lady fell on top of him or vice versa, but regardless, this was not the time. When he was satisfied that they had reached a rather non-crowded section of the dance floor, he turned to the lady and placed one of his hands on her waist while lifting the hand that held her own to around her eye level. After waiting for her to place her other hand on his shoulder, he began to lead her in a turn around the dance floor. 'Twas a simple dance, as he felt such carried a beauty and grace that was difficult to be mastered unless one focused intently on them, but also because he wished to focus most of his attention on trying to identify this woman. Who was she? His curiousity was running rampant already, much like that of a little boy's. And so, the observations began.

He only had met three blondes in the court, Lady Elissabethe, Lady Lucy, and Lady Constance. He mentally checked off Lady Constance, as he had identified her earlier in the evening, and settled for the ast two blondes he had met. Both would react quite differently to his words, he knew. After all Lady Lucy was very nearly spoken for, in her own words, and Lady Elissabethe was little more than a flirt. Therefore, he began. "You look quite lovely tonight, my lady. I trust you have been enjoying yourself?" Keeping his eyes open for any flirtatious gestures, eyelash batting, or anything of the sort, Westley studied her face. Eventually, she would have to give herself away if he knew her at all.

Lucy's heart soared as the man led her into the dance, a simple, elegant set of steps this time, but it was a nice change from some of the more complex dances she had taken part in earlier. Also, the more serene movements required by this dance allowed more time in which to converse with one's partner, or simply to observe them, whichever was preferred. Lucy much preferred conversation to being stared at, so she was glad when her partner spoke.

She smiled at his compliment. "Thank you, my Lord; you are looking well yourself," she replied, her eyes looking him over in the same way she noticed he was doing to her. His hair was dark, as far as she could tell from what was not hidden under his black hat, as were his eyes, which still contained that confident, almost arrogant look. But she could not draw any conclusions from his appearance alone; she barely knew any of the other courtiers, in the first place, and there was no reason to suppose this man to be one of her few acquaintances. "And yes, I have been quite enjoying myself, thank you...the music is simply splendid, and I do love to dance!" As the dance progressed through one of the more simple turns, Lucy felt once more the callouses on his fingers, reminding her of her curiousity. "Are you by any chance a musician yourself, my Lord?" she asked.

This woman certainly seemed to carry several traits reminiscent of Lady Lucy before Westley had begun to annoy her out in the gardens. She was being kind and polite, which Westley simply couldn't see Lady Elissabethe being without having a hidden agenda. Westley mentally smirked, believing he already had this woman pegged. However, he figured he should make an attempt to find out a little more about her before he said anything too revealing about her identity.

When she smiled and returned his compliment, he laughed in his head. Oh, if this truly was Lady Lucy, he simply couldn't see her returning his compliment so serenely, at least if she knew that it was him. He was quite confident by now that she absolutely despised him and would send whoever had very nearly spoken for her after him to run him through with a blade. His outward appearance, however, was one that still held an air of neutrality with glimmering mischievious eyes. He merely nodded to her returned compliment, as she quickly began to speak after that and proclaim her love for dancing. A typical girlish response. Lady Lucy it is. However, right when he decided that he would have to come up with another topic for conversation in order to weasel something particularily obvious about her identity, she asked him if he was a musician. His eyebrows lifted beneath his mask, where not only they but the telling wrinkles of his forehead were hidden, and he blinked at her. Mentally running through their conversation in the garden, he couldn't recall if he told her that he was a musician or not. Regardless, it was a risk he would have to take.

"I am, my lady." Lord Westley replied with a simple nod. "I play the lute quite well." Of course, the confident and occasionally egotistical Westley Ryland would not even think to conceal the ranges of his talent, unlike many falsely modest people scurrying around the castle like mice. He waited to see if she would continue the conversation, his eyes still burning into her own.

Lucy smiled to herself as her partner confirmed her suspicions. "I thought so, my Lord," she murmured, glancing up to see a slight gleam of - was it mischief? - in his eyes. But no, surely not...he seemed the perfect gentleman, if slightly overconfident, but that was hardly unusual in the courtiers she had encountered; indeed, if anything, it was the modest or self-effacing ones who were a rarity. She thought nothing further of it, and continued the conversation as though nothing had happened. "Your fingers, I am afraid, quite give you away...there is no mistaking a musician's fingers, particularly one as experienced as yourself."

She stepped away from her partner as the music swelled into the sequence which invited the female dancers into a slightly more complex sequence of steps. She performed the turns effortlessly, then returned to her mysterious partner and replaced her hand in his. "Music always calls to music, I suppose," she said, a note of mystery in her own voice, though she was only referring to the fact that she was also musical, having been singing and training her voice since she was a young girl. "I would be delighted to hear you play, my Lord," she said then, wondering a little at her own forwardness at issuing the invitation, but blaming it on the anonymity provided by the mask she wore. After all, she had no idea who her partner was, so surely the same was true for him...wasn't it?