Chapter Sixteen.

Thousands of carriages lined the cobblestone path leading to the Duke's grand estate, their passengers adorned in their finest attire for the annual Cotswold Harvest Festival. The sprawling mansion glowed with candlelight, its windows radiating warmth against the crisp evening air. Among the many arriving were Hazel, her mother Lady Victoria, and Lady Elisabeth, their carriage rumbling softly over the stone drive.

Upon arrival, they were ushered into the grand hall, an opulent space with gilded chandeliers that shimmered like a thousand stars. The hall was vast, with a high vaulted ceiling and a gallery above for those who might not find room below.

As the trio entered, they were handed admission tickets, small embossed cards that glimmered faintly in the light. They found seats along the edge of the hall, where they could observe the proceedings without being in the midst of the throng.

The festival began with the arrival of the Duke's esteemed guests. One by one, they were seated at the high table, a raised platform at the head of the hall. This was the highlight for many of the countryside folk, who relished the chance to catch a glimpse of noblemen and ladies they had only heard of in whispered stories.

When all were seated, the Duke himself, Lord Timothy, rose to address the assembly. His commanding voice silenced the murmurs of the crowd.

"My lords, ladies, and honored guests," he began, "tonight, we celebrate not only the harvest, but the unity and prosperity of our beloved Cotswolds. This evening is especially significant, as it marks the return of my son and heir, Lord Garet Timothy. After many years abroad, gaining knowledge and experience, Garet has come home to contribute to the progress and development of our countryside. With his guidance, we aim to bring innovation to our lands, securing a prosperous future for generations to come."

A wave of applause swept through the hall as the Duke gestured toward the grand doors. "And now, I present to you my son, Lord Garet Timothy."

Two liveried guards swung open the heavy oak doors, revealing Garet standing tall and poised. He wore a tailored coat of deep emerald green with golden embroidery, his dark hair swept back to frame his chiseled features. A collective murmur rippled through the crowd as he stepped forward, flanked by the guards.

As he reached the center of the hall, Garet paused and bowed slightly to the assembly. "Thank you, Father, for your kind words," he said, his voice smooth and commanding. "And thank you all for joining us to celebrate this year's harvest. May it be a time of abundance and renewal for all."

With a final bow, he took his seat at the high table.

In the corner of the hall, Lady Elisabeth's hands trembled as she gazed at her son. Her chest tightened, and tears welled in her eyes. He had grown into a fine young man, but the years of separation weighed heavily on her heart. Unable to contain her emotions, she rose abruptly and left the hall, her sobs barely muffled by her handkerchief.

Lady Victoria noticed and quickly followed, whispering to Hazel, "Stay here, dear. I'll be back shortly."

Curious and concerned, Hazel followed quietly behind them, keeping her distance.

In a secluded alcove outside the hall, Lady Elisabeth was inconsolable. "I have failed as a mother," she wept, her voice trembling. "I was not there to see him grow, to guide him. He would never forgive me if he knew the truth. I don't deserve to be here."

Lady Victoria placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You mustn't say such things, my lady. Circumstances beyond your control kept you apart. None of this is your fault."

Hazel watched from a distance, unable to hear their words but sensing the gravity of the situation. She decided to leave them alone and returned to the hall, where the festivities continued.

She served herself a plate of delicacies on s

her seat. As she ate, her gaze wandered to Garet. He looked striking under the soft glow of the chandeliers, his presence commanding yet distant. Something stirred within her, a familiarity she couldn't quite place. She thought of Lady Elisabeth and wondered at the resemblance she saw between the two. But she shook the thought away, deciding it wasn't her place to pry.

Moments later, Lady Elisabeth and Lady Victoria returned, both appearing more composed. They served themselves and joined Hazel, though Elisabeth's eyes kept drifting toward the direction of the Duke and his son, Garet.

The evening moved into its next phase with music and performances. Dancers twirled gracefully across the floor, actors enacted lively dramas, and musicians filled the air with merry tunes. The atmosphere was electric, and the crowd cheered heartily.

Finally, the master of ceremonies, a portly gentleman with a booming voice stepped forward to announce a surprise. "Ladies and gentlemen," he declared, "tonight's celebration comes with a delightful twist! Each of you was given a ticket upon entering. Our esteemed guests at the high table will now draw numbers from a bowl, and those whose tickets match will receive a special award."

A wave of excitement rippled through the crowd as the guests at the high table began drawing numbers. One by one, winners were announced and came forward to claim their prizes.

At last, only two numbers remained to be called. The Duke stood and drew the penultimate number, awarding it to an elderly farmer who shuffled forward with a broad grin.

"And now," the master of ceremonies proclaimed, "the final draw of the evening will be made by Lord Garet Timothy himself!"

Garet rose gracefully, reached into the bowl, and drew a ticket. He called the number aloud, twice for clarity.

Hazel stared at her ticket in disbelief. It matched! Her mother let out an excited cry and nudged her. "Hazel, it's you! Go on!"

Flustered, Hazel rose and made her way to the stage. She could hear murmurs as she passed: "What a stunning dress!" "Who is she?" "Look at her jewelry!"

As she approached, the master of ceremonies beamed. "Ah, what a vision of loveliness! And as an added honor, our final winner will have the first dance with Lord Garet Timothy."

The crowd erupted into cheers, and Hazel's cheeks burned. Garet extended his hand, his piercing gaze meeting hers.