With evident reluctance, the young woman placed her hand on his arm, barely grazing him, as social protocol dictated. And they walked away from the group, dodging people, heading for the doors leading to the back of the house.
The lady maintained such a tense posture that Nicolas feared his arm, which was as thin as a toothpick, would break if he touched it.
In an awkward silence, they crossed the room. He looked sideways at her, she kept her chin tucked to her chest. Which did not surprise him, for their walk was attracting the attention of many, who cast curious and quizzical glances at them, for they did not exactly make an expected couple, she being a relegated vase and he a famed libertine. There was no lack of mockery behind the fans and derogatory comments, something that embarrassed the count.
This was a calamity. Fate could not be so cruel and condemn him to be burdened with such a woman. Ugly, dull and commonplace. He had to find an alternative. He would definitely talk to his father. He wouldn't last a minute married to that woman.
When he reached outside, she let go of his arm as if repelled by the contact, which hit him like a kick in the stomach.
"On top of everything else, he had to endure the rejection of this ugly mouse? "Nicolas was furious.
The lady walked across the wide terrace and peered over the large stone balustrade. He stopped beside her, sensing that she had relaxed considerably.
"May I ask you a question, my lady? "he broke the silence. She did not answer, but merely nodded in the affirmative. Are you excessively shy, or is it that you cannot tolerate my presence? "he asked, lowering his voice and not wishing to examine the source of his curiosity.
The young woman let out a sigh and turned to him, but without looking directly at him.
"No, my lord. It's just that I'm not used to a gentleman, or a man for that matter, requesting my company," she replied, and something in her tone made him feel a sudden empathy towards her.
"Why is that, my lady? "he asked, and saw the hint of a smile appear on his face.
"Doesn't the reason seem obvious to you, my lord? No man in his right mind would choose my company with any lady at his disposal who is not like me," she explained evenly. There was no rancor or anger in his voice.
"Who is not like you? "he questioned, somewhat confused. She may not have been a beauty, but now that he had managed to coax a word out of her, she seemed like a nice lady.
"Unless she was hiding some scandal or bad reputation," he reflected, alarmed.
"Ugly, my lord," Lady Catherine told him sharply. He was taken aback by her frankness. And although she said it with a resigned tone, it was obvious to Nicolas that her voice hid a deep sadness.
He then completely lost control over his words and actions, and was seized by an unheard of impulse to comfort and protect the young woman.
"Lady Catherine," he said, taking a step toward her and gently placing a finger on her chin.
She let him do it and lifted her face to his. For a moment, Nicolas looked at that small, oval face that everyone saw: her overly broad forehead, her prominent nose and her very full lips, which seemed to him to be her most flattering feature, for that fleshy mouth was very appetizing.
"Milady, look at me, please," he asked, feeling the inexplicable urge to see her eyes.
The young woman blushed even more, and her eyelashes fluttered over her thin cheeks nervously. Then she looked up, and Nicolas was captivated by the depth of those gray eyes, shining like liquid silver, pure, luminous, without a dark hint to ruin the perfection of her gaze. He could almost feel that he would lose himself in them, in their nobility, kindness, innocence and vulnerability. Looking at those gray pools, she couldn't understand how anyone could pay attention to anything else, having those eyes in front of her.
She did not look away, she seemed as mesmerized as he, who was bewildered and unable to move a muscle. Her eyes were very beautiful, and perhaps the nickname society had imposed on her was not so wrong. At least, in their color they resembled that little animal, though in a more charming and sweet way.
"My lord? "he realized that the thought had made him smile.
"Lady Mouse. "Nicolas spat unconsciously. And he saw her eyes widen in astonishment and the next second, her hand struck his cheek with icy force, causing his head to turn to the side.
Stunned, he brought his fingers to his burning cheek. He turned to see how the young woman threw him a withering glance and muttering a "You scoundrel!", turned her back to return to the living room, at an angry pace.
Next Morning.
Nicolas opened one eye to find his twin sprawled on the edge of his bed, singing that sweet, hateful ballad. Colin had his eyes closed and one hand on his heart, as he howled at the top of his lungs. Obfuscated, he threw a pillow at him, which hit him squarely in the face, cutting off the verse that was already beginning.
"Oh, you woke up, brother! Since when do you get up Lordy? "he asked with feigned curiosity, returning the pillow with force.
"I was awakened by the howl of a dying dog, get out of my room, Colin," he growled, catching the feathered projectile and covering his head with it. His brother had drawn the curtains and the mid"morning sun streamed into the room.
"Father requests your presence. The lawyer will be here shortly," Colin reported in a singsong tone.
"Damn it! "Nicolas blurted in annoyance, sitting up in bed. You're enjoying this, aren't you? "he asked annoyed, narrowing his eyes at the sight of the other's smile.
"I won't deny that it amuses me to see the eternal libertine about to be bound by the chains of marriage," Colin replied, dodging the fist he threw at him as he laughed at his own expense.