The musketeers were in despair, they had cornered a criminal who could be involved with their investigation and he had slipped through their fingers.
'It wasn't a he' argued Porthos under his breath as they watched the ladies and their long skirts glide by on the arms of the gentlemen in stiff collars.
'Whoever it was, they got away' affirmed Aramis glumly.
Athos looked up hazily and saw someone by the drinks table he really didn't want to see. She looked beautiful tonight in a dark brown lacy dress. Where those were emeralds in her hair? He tried to stop looking, to not draw attention to himself by noticing her but to no avail. He dropped his head in his hands but kept his eyes up. She was smiling at the prime minister's secretary mischievously, arms crossed, waiting for him to make a move. Playing the little lady. He gallantly offered his arm to her, she laughed and took it. Athos' heart skipped a beat.
He knew that laugh. He remembered hearing it so long ago when they were young. When life had been carefree and only the present mattered. She turned her head and saw him looking at her. Her smile faltered and he saw the panic flash in her eyes. Then a tug on her arm drew her away and all there was left was a space that couldn't be filled with anything that mattered. She was gone; exiting as faint as a summer breeze and all he could remember was the scent of her hair and the sweep of her skirt.