#ball

      You snicker, “That’s quite enough flattery, Cordelia,” She finishes sliding on your last glove, “Mama will make sure you’re paid plenty.” The modiste gains a flush to her face as she now stares at the floor. 

      You step down from the platform where she had you stand, placing your hands on your hips, looking at Cordelia. “I do wish that you could attend these balls with me.” You do pity the fact that the sole reason for everyone’s wonderful attire may not attend the events herself. She smiles and shakes her head.

      “I believe it is not my scene. I’d stand no chance at a ball with the ton.” Cordelia holds an arm out for you to hold as she begins to escort you from the dressing room. 

      You scoff, “Oh, nonsense,” You gesture to your outfit then to her, “This is your doing, you should be able to accompany me to parade the fact.” She gives you a sad smile before opening the door.

      “I admire you, Miss. Y/L/N, I truly do. Now run along,” Cordelia motions her hand out the door, “You’ve got a ball to attend and Lady Y/L/N shall not like it if you are late.”

      You shake your head, “No, she shall not.” You give Cordelia a quick hug before a wave goodbye and skipping to your carriage that awaits you. The door is opened for you and there awaits your mother with a smile. 

      She reaches forward to grab your gloved hand, “Oh, Y/N, this is wonderful.” Your mother loved every bit of the courting season. From seeing her daughters in their stunning gowns to watching them enter their womanhood. It was her most favorite time of the year.

      You, however, weren’t very fond of it. But you wouldn’t ruin it for your mother. So, you nodded with a smile in response, “Yes, Cordelia did quite a good job, didn’t she, mama?” Your mother nods her head in an excitement that warms your heart.

      “Oh yes, dear, she just gets better every time.” The smile on your mama’s face is exactly what made all of this worth it. Because otherwise you would have no problem with the ton referring to you as some sort of spinster. And unfortunately, they might start referring to you that way because so far this season, you’ve sent away all of your suitors. Of course, it didn’t make your mama all that happy, but she learned to appreciate every bit of your surrender. 

      You sit back in the carriage, resting your hands in your lap as you stare out the window. Your mother clears her throat, gathering your attention again. 

      “Alexandra’s brother is back from his ventures.” She says. Alexandra is your best friend and the daughter of your mother’s best friend, so of course you knew that Viscount Styles had returned. You want to laugh in your mother’s face because you know exactly what has brought this upon her. But you don’t snicker, you just hum.

      “Oh, is he?” You could feel your mother’s gaze all about the side of your face, trying to gouge any reaction. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t get one.

      “He is.” She reached across the carriage to grab your hand. “As I heard it, he’s looking to finally settle down.” The look in your mother’s eyes was so innocent and hopeful that it made you feel guilty. You and Harry, Viscount Styles, used to have a silly connection when you were in your younger years. Him being the older brother of your best friend added a certain charm to him, you supposed. If you had not known him so well, you might really pursue him. But you knew who and how Harry was, and you couldn’t be sure that you would be the one to change that.

      “Well, I suppose he should be.” You dropped your mothers hand as the carriage drew to a stop and the doors opened. You climbed out of the vehicle and waited for your mother, looping your arm through hers. “Ready?”

      She nodded, “If you are.” 

      Stepping into the palace, there was an immediate jump in noise, a large crowd chatter amongst each other and participating in some waltzing. You and your mother had only taken one step into the room before you had a man stumbling over to you. A suitor that had made you particularly nauseous. Lord Livingston, Duke of Hampshire, was 40 years your elder and not what you were looking for… whatsoever.

      Lord Livingston grabbed your hand immediately, placing a kiss upon it with his brutally dry lips. You tried not to wince as he acted, instead bowing to him, considering his royalty. 

      “Miss. Y/L/N, how stunning you look tonight.” You painted a smile on your face, as not to displease your mother as she stood beside you.

      “Lord Livingston, it’s always a pleasure.” Except it never was. It made you think most terrible thoughts, such as had his late wife died of natural causes, or had she killed herself? You chanced a glance at your mother and she gave you a guilty smile.

      “Why don’t you give Lord Livingston your first dance?” She pushed at your back, pushing you closer to him. It was at this moment you wished you didn’t love your mama as much as you did because if it weren’t for that alone, Lord Livingston would not be anywhere near you.

      But still you gritted your teeth in a smile, muttering, “Sounds delightful,” following him to the dance floor. You observed him as you followed behind. The man wore a powdered toupee that was so obviously faux, and had a hunch where his nose pointed to his toes. You hoped that years from now you would look back on these days and be grateful you went through this to find the one you love. If that was possible.

      A ballad began and you grabbed the duke’s hand, waltzing to the beat with him. He was unbearably slow. It seemed that every suitor so far could never match your tempo, which was truly infuriating. In fact, only one man had ever matched your tempo in your 18 years of living. The same man who taught you.

      Livingston stuck his nose in your neck and sniffed, “You smell so lovely.” You felt bile rise in your throat. The duke and his hot breath on your neck was starting to make you spiral.

      You swallowed whatever had risen in your throat and smiled, “Thank you.” His hand cruised up and down your waist as you danced painstakingly slow and everything about the moment was making you feel sick. You looked around the room searching for any possible way out. Should you ask him to get you a drink? Should you say you were feeling ill? It wouldn’t be a lie. However, before you had any longer to plot your escape, a hand landed on Lord Livingston’s shoulder.

      “Duke,” spoke a voice above you, “Would it be okay if I stole Miss. Y/L/N for a dance of my own?” You knew that voice well. 

      You looked up and saw none other than Viscount Styles, towering above both you and the duke. The breath nearly left your lungs as you saw him. He looked older, more mature, but in a way that made your stomach swirl. His once short locks now met his shoulders. Everything about his new look sent a wave of unwanted chills through your body.

      Lord Livingston grinned, “Ah, Viscount Styles. Back from France I see.” He passed your hand to Harry’s. When your hands connected, a spark twinkled. “She’s all yours.” 

      Harry bowed his head to the duke before he turned back to you. You were both thankful and anxious at his presence. He could sense this, you suppose, because rather quickly, one of his silly smirks graced his face.

      “Y/N,” He whispered as he put you both in the proper position to start a waltz. 

      “Harry,” You avoided his eye contact and straightened your spine. The orchestra begins and just as you remembered, you and the pesky Viscount fall into a familiar rhythm. You hear him chuckle just slightly over the music. “What’s so funny, Styles?”

      He smirks and shakes his head, “Just feels like we’re kids again, doesn’t it?” He spins you and pulls you against his chest. “Remember the first time I taught you and Lexi to dance. She stumbled over her feet, still does. But you, you picked it up right away.” 

      You felt a flush rise to your cheeks. However, you decided to disregard his statement. “How was France?” 

      “Relaxing.” He spoke as you both moved in sync. “Had no obligations or pressure,” He paused for a second before speaking again, “I think you would have liked it.” You would have loved it. But how would he have known that? But instead of asking him this, you just chuckle.

      “Get away from all of this? Who wouldn’t?” You meant for the question to be lighthearted, but the way that he looked into your eyes after you spoke made your stomach jump. His fingers lightly tickled your lower back.

      “I think most everyone here would like to stay right where they are. We’ve always been different.” This was very true. While Alexandra was your very best friend and you went to her for everything, you and Harry always had more similar interests. You both would spend your days in either your backyard or theirs, navigating your way through the croquet hoops in the lawn while Lexi played piano inside. Sometimes you both would get distracted with the bugs in the gardening, trying to collect as many as you could. You would try to bring them inside to show your parents and your mothers would just laugh and shoo you away. 

      It never bothered you that you and your best friend had differing interests, you were just glad that you did have someone to engage in your favorite activities with. Besides, on the days you would stay in and paint, which you loved to do, it would have a wonderful backtrack of Lexi’s newly learned ballad. 

     You let a smile slip. “Yes, we have. Grub and worm collectors.” He chuckled and pulled you closer to him as you danced. You two were finally looking each other in the eye and the warmth in your body felt just as it used to when you were young and giddy. 

      Harry removes you from your little daze as he asks, “Do you still paint?” And while you know the answer to the question, the fact that he remembered at all mixed with just the smell of him made you feel woozy. 

      You swallowed the saliva in your mouth, nodding. “Yeah, all the time.” You were careful not to misstep as the music began to gain speed and felt yourself begin to perspire. 

      He leans in beside your ear, so as not to speak over the music, “While I was in the countryside, these lovely folk let me stay in their home. The view from my bedroom,” He paused and you could feel the smile on his face, “Y/N, you would have been in heaven. It’s all I could think of every morning when I looked out. How you would have painted the scene so well.” The thought made your face heat and butterflies flutter against your rib cage.

      You pulled back so you could get a proper look at his face. “You thought of me?” You say just over a whisper. 

       He smiled and lifted his shoulder in a shrug, saying “Hard not to,” as if it was the most simple thing in the world. 

      But then you began to think about the fact that he never wrote and it made you wonder if he really did miss you, or if this was just some charming facade. You could feel your face curl in confusion and Harry laughed. “What?”

      You shook your head, “Just haven’t seen or heard from you in quite some time. Hard to believe you thought about me out in the countryside of France.” Your voice had somewhat of a sour tone to it, and you couldn’t understand why.

      The music slowed and the ballad came to a stop. You took a step away and bowed, “Thank you for the dance.” You quickly turned to move toward wherever you could get something to quench your thirst, but your wrist was caught and you were turned back.

      “Well,” Harry said as he pulled you back to him. “Did you think about me?”

      You felt your chest rise and fall in deep breaths. Nothing within your soul felt like you could lie to the Viscount. So you whispered to him the truth. “Everyday.”

      This time he didn’t smirk or grin, he just nodded and brushed a hair off your shoulder, face still as stone. “Very well.” Then he dropped your wrist and left you alone on the dance floor, probably off to a new conquest that would take the bait and end up in his bed by dark. 

      You stood there, squeezing your hands in fists then letting them go. But in the midst of your sadness and fury, there was a tap to your shoulder. You spun to see none other than your best friend. You painted a smile on your face.

      “Hi,” She offered you a flute of something, and you took it from her, sipping it down in a second. She laughed, “Quite thirsty?”

      You sighed and nodded, “Parched.” Once you had come to your senses, it occurred to you that you had rudely not greeted Lexi yet. You wrapped your arms around your best friend. “I missed you dearly.”

      This, again, made her laugh. “It’s been only a day, Y/N.”

      You sighed, “And oh, a day it’s been.” Grabbing her free hand, you asked, “And how pesky has it been having your brother back in the house?”

      Alexandra shrugged, setting her glass down on the nearest table. “Honestly? Not bad at all. It’s as if he picked up some manners on his travels. Goes to bed early, really only drinks tea before bed, and you know how he normally reaches for-”

      “Whiskey.” You finished, nodding. As much as you had wanted to think that Harry had not changed one bit, it seemed that most signs were pointing to quite the opposite. Most of them, anyway. 

      However, when you looked over Lexi’s shoulder, there was the viscount, smirking at the words of another lady. You would marry Harry in a second if you knew he’d truly changed. But deep down, you knew he could never shake the person that he was. The countryside of France wasn’t that powerful.

      “Y/N” You snapped out of it, bringing your attention back to Alexandra. “You alright?”

      You painted a smile on your face and nodded. “Yes, my apologies, it’s just so warm in here I can hardly think. I’m going to grab some fresh air, perhaps out in the garden.” 

      Lexi’s face seemed to be one of confusion as you turned and tried your best to find your way out of the ballroom. You slipped out of a side door in the lobby, leading yourself out to a balcony of sorts. You find yourself curling over the railing, letting out a deep sigh as you rest your head in your hands.

      Why was it that you let the boy, now man, burrow so deeply under your skin? You wished you could understand it, find a way to stop it. When you were a little girl, you looked at Harry like he hung the moon, at least that’s what your mama said. And as much as you wanted that to change as you grew older, the longing only grew stronger. Now, you looked at him like he was friends with the stars and connected to the planets, like he controlled the solar system. That was the problem. Because to him you were just a person on earth, so far below the night sky.

      You straightened your body and looked out at the vast field. It would make for a spectacular game of croquet, you thought. You don’t hear it, too deep in thought while staring into the abyss, but the door opens and closes. Before you can stop it, a body leans over the railing beside you. You knew who it was, you could feel it. 

      “How can I assist you, Viscount?” You voice, sight still set straight towards the forest.

      His hand slides across the rail to yours, brushing against it. When he speaks, it’s soft, but sure. “You can marry me.” 

      Your spine freezes and you take a small breath, finally turning to look at him. The viscount, of course, is already looking at you, nostrils flared and his eyes giving you a look that made your stomach feel as if it caged butterflies. You stared at him for a long moment, wondering if the words had truly escaped his mouth. Waiting long enough with the thought that maybe he would take them back, say he did not mean them. Surely he didn’t mean them. But the longer you waited, the longer he stayed still and persistent.

      You let out a breathy laugh, looking away from him, because if you looked into his eyes any longer you would say yes. “That is ridiculous.”

      Harry slides closer to you, “Is it?” 

      You shake your head and pull away from the railing, “Yes, Harry, it is completely foolish and I will not marry you.” You have to laugh again. “You don’t want me and you never will.” You turn, making a start towards the door, “Now, if you’ll excuse me-”

      His hand grasps your forearm, pulling you back to him. You gasp, his eyes wilder than before, having a way about them that made you feel completely exposed. Almost as if he was about to yell at you like a father, or punish you like you were a child. Puffs of air began to leave his lips and his brows became furrowed as he leaned close to you.   

      “You have no idea what you do to me.” Harry spoke quietly, hand dropping your wrist and eyes wandering down to your lips. “You have no clue how mad you make me, how badly I yearn to touch you. To hear the sounds you’d make for me. I’ve been keeping it to myself for your benefit, but holding my tongue I can no longer. Not when I long to taste you on it.” The step forward was tentative but not shy, hand reaching out to your throat as knuckles dragged over the skin, feeling the pulse fluttering like the butterflies that were once caged in your stomach. “Just let me have you. Even if it’s just once.”   

      Your jaw began to clench, because how fitting was this? But how good did it feel to be wanted? To be so rawly craved and desired. 

      His hand snaked up to cup your jaw. When you looked at him you realized this was all you had ever wanted, but everything that you could never have. Your eyes closed and your head shook slowly in his hold.

      “No, no, no, no,” You whispered repeatedly. You should’ve pulled away from his touch, but you could only feel yourself drifting closer to him until eventually you’re whispering “no” and planting your lips on his anyway. 

      You wrapped your arms around the viscount’s neck and his dropped to the lower sliver of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. You had never kissed another before but you imagined that they didn’t all feel like this. All the stars that Harry had hung in the sky had now been placed between the two of you. 

       Harry moved you both until your back touched the cold brick of the house. A noise rose from your throat as you kissed him as best you could. You wanted to kiss him so well he would never think of any of the women before you. That you would be his soul want and need. 

      He pulled away from your lips, swiftly moving to make a path of pecks down your neck and to the neckline of your dress. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you watched him, your eyes blown wide as he looked up at you.

      “You’ll marry me, won’t you?” He whispers as he lowers down to his knees. His hands slide up your bare legs, the bottom of your dress climbing higher with his hands. His lips begin peppering kisses on your thighs. “You love me, don’t you?”

      You didn’t answer, instead tried to swallow the sounds that attempted to leave your mouth as he drug your drawers down your legs. He stuck them inside his jacket and his head disappeared beneath your shift. 

      “Oh-” Your hand left his hair to cover your mouth as you felt his tongue prod at your wetness. The sensation felt so strange, but so good. You had to imagine he knew what he was capable of, he knew how good he was. Harry licked a strip up your arousal before dipping it inside of you as nose nudged at your clit. You knew that the hand over your mouth did nothing to conceal the noises that were flowing from your mouth, but you didn’t have enough care inside of you.

      Harry’s mouth detached from you as he pulled his head out from under your dress and pushed a finger inside of you. You threw your head against the wall, not even being able to process that pain that it caused.

      “That’s it,” He whispered as he stared at you, almost entranced, “My wife.” You didn’t need to speak the words, he knew you. You’d be his bride without question. 

      “Harry,” You whined, your hips bucking against his hand. You had never felt pleasure like this and it began to crawl all over your body and infect your veins.

      “Just feel it, darling.” He encouraged with the addition of another finger, his other hand traveling under to rub at your nerves. 

      Your eyes squeezed shut as you shook your head, feeling the pressure build. “I- I don’t-”

      And before you could even understand what was happening, sparks traveled throughout your body and your legs became weak and shaky. Constant mutters of his name flowed out of your mouth as he held you up and worked you through the high. When you began to shiver at the feeling, Harry pulled away and straightened your dress, then taking his fingers and sliding them against his tongue.

      The viscount stood and his hand returned to its previous spot on your jaw and as you looked at the man who hung the moon you couldn’t help but let the words fall from your lips.

      “I’ll marry you.”

***