Ardently |h.s|

forty one

Zayn is a kind man, very gentlemanly. He brings me refreshments, allows me time to mingle with others, and makes sure I am doing okay throughout the night. We have shared one dance so far, but we are going to have another soon.

It feels wrong agreeing to court a man, just to make Harry jealous. I have no intention of marrying Zayn, and yet here I am, pretending to be interested in conversation. We have gained a lot of attention so far and most everyone has forgotten about how Harry has ended our courtship. I know I'll look like a whore for going back to Harry once he inevitably gets jealous, however, I couldn't care less. I love him.

I've confided in Liam that I visited the Styles estate the other day. He scolded me for leaving alone and claims he would have taken me, but he was curious about Harry eavesdropping. He agrees that something else must have happened.

The last thing I'm going to tell Liam about is our talk that night when we were alone, so I'm glad he didn't ask more questions about why I am so hell bent on proving something isn't right. He is more interested in helping me at least get a moment to talk to him. Thank god for him.

As I stand with the Viscountess, taking a sip of my drink, a hand places on my shoulder. I turn my head slightly, knowing it is only Liam. "Yes, brother?" I ask, my heart already pounding.

"Lord Styles and his family have just arrived. They are entering the ballroom now and he has already spotted you. I believe you and the Duke should dance." he encourages and I nod. "Thank you, brother."

With that information, my eyes scan the crowd, in search of two people. Zayn and Harry. My eyes spot Zayn first, seeing him standing and talking to some other men about god knows what boring thing. Not too far away is Harry, who is also glaring toward Zayn. This is my chance.

I walk over to the Duke, curtsying to him and his friends upon my arrival. They all bow in my presence and Zayn smiles toward me, "Miss Pembroke." he greets.

"Your grace. I do not mean to interrupt your conversation, however I really do enjoy the next dance, perhaps we could participate!" I suggest, a bright smile on my face.

I feel foolish. Wearing that awful necklace he has gifted me, and a light pink dress as he has requested I dress in feminine colors, I feel like his perfect little doll and not like the woman he has affection for. Then again, marrying him would mean all my liberties being taken away from me within seconds of saying 'I do'.

Zayn smiles at my offer, nodding, "Of course." he agrees, turning to his friends to excuse himself. I take his arm, walking to the dance floor with him. Out of the corner of my eyes, Gemma is talking to an angry looking Harry. He is talking passionately under his breath, his gaze stuck on the Duke and I.

It kills me to know that I am causing him so much stress, but then I remember all he has put me through and I believe he is deserving of this mental turmoil. Perhaps it shall bring him to his senses finally. I would love to see him fight for me right here on this dance floor.

Zayn's hand is placed on my back and mine on his arm as our other hands grab hold of each other. He is very proper and rigid. Harry was always very suave and charming. Every move was effortless and romantic, where with Zayn, it just feels as though I am being led through the motions. There is no connection, no matter how hard he tries.

We begin to dance, making small talk about how the party has been for us so far. He makes a genuine effort to let me speak and to find out more from me, but he usually ends up going on about himself. Not that it's really in a bad way either, because it's something he is really just interested in, but it gets boring. I hope he finds someone who truly loves him one day.