For her part, Catherine heard the voice of her progenitor far away. All her senses were totally subjugated by the imposing presence of the gentleman who now took the hand she had unknowingly extended. Her heartbeat accelerated madly when he kissed her hand, without taking his eyes off hers for a second. They were startlingly black and large, with a multitude of lashes framing his piercing gaze. The ebony colored hair, somewhat curled at the ends, was longer than usual and brushed the nape of his neck.
"Lord Lancaster, may I present my eldest daughter, Lady Catherine Brighton. " Her father's voice followed, invading the unusual moment she was living.
What on earth was happening to her, why did she feel shaky and hot, and what was this strange force that prevented her from looking away from those beautiful night colored eyes?
"It is a pleasure, my lady," the Black Knight said in a deep, husky voice. The sound of his voice vibrated through her whole body, making her shudder inwardly. And immediately, Catherine felt her whole body fall into an exciting and mysterious abyss of pleasure.
Nicolas placed a kiss on Lady Brighton's gloved hand and could not help staring at him.
"For charity's sake, the girl was uglier than I imagined! "She seemed to be transfixed and looked at him with her head slightly bowed, shyly. She did not reply to his comment, nor did she show any reaction.
With much effort, he managed to contain his impatience and bad mood. Still smiling, she greeted the other sister, who, of course, was a total sperpentiform
"By the nails of Christ! This can't be happening to me. " The count thought contritely.
While all around him a conversation began among the older men. Nicolas continued to observe the woman they were trying to force him to marry. The lady had ducked her head, shying away from his gaze and her cheeks were furiously flushed.
With a critical eye, he examined her appearance, finding nothing to save her ugly appearance; she was of average height, too wiry and thin, the dress, simple and inelegant, gave her a childish appearance, devoid of curves and attractiveness. And her face, he had only seen it for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. He had a long nose and overly thick eyebrows.
On the other hand, her hair lived up to the nickname by which, according to her brother, she was called: Lady Mouse. For it was a dark brown, very straight and dull, although the hairstyle she wore didn't help, being tied in a tight bun at the nape of her neck.
"Oh, hell... I'm not going to be able to do it. "He wailed in grief, shooting a murderous glance at his brother, who kept his face impassive, but it was obvious to him that he was enjoying his situation.
He turned his gaze to the young woman and realized that, to garnish the cake, she was overly shy and withdrawn. She was merely standing there, looking down at her slender hands and sipping from her glass. Not so her younger sister, who stood erect and glared at them behind her huge glasses. She had pretty blue eyes. However, her disdainful expression ruined the effect.
Nicolas noticed that his father was still chatting with the marquis and father of the ladies and suppressed his urge to interrupt them. He returned his gaze to the young woman, and noted that she was still in the same posture. The silence between the two was deafening and very uncomfortable.
Her attitude was beginning to irritate him, she was deliberately ignoring him and that, for some strange reason, annoyed him; he was not used to women ignoring him. Whenever he entered one of those events, most of the decent, single ladies would rush to flee in the opposite direction, many being dragged away by their mothers, or chaperones, due to his infamous skull reputation. Which did not prevent having their eyes following him around the room, gawking at him, sending him flirtatious smiles and dreamy sighs. Lady Brighton, however, did not deign to notice him for a moment.
"This is the last straw, it is unheard of," he said to himself in annoyance.
" So... milady, is the evening to your liking? "he suddenly blurted out, and instantly wanted to kick himself for making that stupid comment.
The answer did not come. After a few seconds, the youngest spoke.
"To whom do you address the question, my lord," said Lady Abigail curtly.
"Of course, how clumsy of me," apologized Nicolas, feeling for the first time like an inexperienced idiot.
What on earth was wrong with him?
No one disputed his last remark or excused him, only Colin's strangled laughter was heard. So, through gritted teeth, he continued:
"I was addressing Lady Catherine.
The named one reacted as if she were being accused of some crime. She tensed visibly and her face grew even redder.
"Umm... I... Yes, my lord," she finally stammered, without raising her head. He had spoken too softly, but he could hear a soft, melodious voice that pleased him.
"Would you allow me to escort you to the terraces? You look a little stifled," he asked without thinking, and confirmed that he was losing his mind.
Lady Catherine became uneasy at his request and began to shake her head.
"No, my lord, I don't know....
"Of course you may accompany my daughter, Lord Lancaster, go ahead," his father interrupted, causing her to startle.
With the marquis's permission, he stretched out his arm gracefully towards the girl, who looked like a statue. Her father sensed her paralysis and gave her a gentle push toward him.