Chapter Seventeen.

Certainly! Here's a reorganized, polished Hazel took Garet's outstretched hand as the music swelled, and the pair moved gracefully under the glittering crystal chandeliers. Soft murmurs rippled through the room as envious glances followed their movements.

"They look perfect together," whispered one onlooker.

"Such a beauty, and with the Duke's heir no less!" sighed another, while a few young ladies in attendance could not hide their jealousy.

As they swayed to the music, Garet gazed deeply into Hazel's eyes. A flicker of recognition sparked within him. Why did she seem so familiar? Those eyes, he thought, where had he seen them before?

"You look familiar, young lady," he said, his voice low yet steady. "Might I inquire your name?"

Hazel smiled warmly. "It's me, Garet,Hazel."

A smile tugged at Garet's lips. He had suspected as much, but now he was certain.

"You are truly radiant tonight, Hazel," he said. "I am glad to share my first dance with you."

Hazel curtsied slightly, her cheeks flushing. "Likewise, my lord."

As they continued, Garet found himself captivated by her presence. The way her dress shimmered in the candlelight, how her curls framed her face, it was as if she were the very embodiment of grace. For Hazel, the moment felt surreal. Despite her nerves, she focused on the rhythm, though her steps were unpolished compared to Garet's poised movements.

Sensing her hesitance, Garet gently adjusted his lead, ensuring their dance remained simple yet elegant. As he spun her lightly, her burgundy gown flared out, catching the light in mesmerizing glints.

When the music drew to a close, Hazel curtsied again, the audience clapping politely. She accepted her award with a shy smile and returned to her seat, her heart still racing.

"Hazel! What a gift for your birthday!" her mother exclaimed, beaming. "The first dance with the Duke's heir, what an honor!"

Lady Elisabeth, who had observed the dance keenly, smiled as well, though her expression held a trace of unease. She had noticed something during their dance, the way Garet and Hazel seemed to connect, their gazes lingering longer than mere politeness required. Could it be that they knew each other already?

Hazel, lost in the thrill of the evening, sat glowing with happiness. She stole glances at Garet, marveling at how this evening had turned into one she would never forget.

---

The ball continued with lively performances, from theatrical displays to jubilant music that set the hall alight with cheer. When it was time for the traditional group dance, guests poured onto the floor, eager to join. Among them was Lady Elisabeth, who seized the moment to approach Garet.

With great effort, she weaved through the crowd, brushing past other hopeful ladies vying for a moment with the Duke's heir. Garet, visibly weary, had just begun to step away for a reprieve when Elisabeth reached him, extending her hand.

"May I have this dance, my lord?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Though reluctant, Garet nodded out of courtesy and took her hand. As they moved together, Lady Elisabeth struggled to keep her composure. Looking up into his face, she marveled at how much he had grown. Her little Garet, now a fine young man. Her heart ached with the weight of her memories.

Unnoticed by him, her hands shook slightly. Before the dance ended, she discreetly slipped a small red envelope into his jacket pocket, her fingers lingering for a moment. When the music paused, she released him and disappeared into the crowd, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

Later, as Garet stepped into the garden for fresh air, he reached into his pocket and found the envelope. Intrigued, he started to open it, but a servant interrupted him.

"My lord," the servant said with a bow, "the Duke requests your presence. There are noble guests eager to meet you."

Garet sighed and slipped the envelope back into his pocket. "Very well," he replied, turning back toward the hall.

Inside, the Duke had gathered a circle of notable guests eager to meet his heir. As Garet entered, his father's voice rang out, rich with pride, introducing him to a group of noblemen and their families.

Lady Delinda lingered close by, her eyes sharp as she watched the proceedings unfold. Every word of praise the Duke showered on Garet stung, as it only reminded her of her son Edward's exclusion from such glory. She clenched her fan tightly, her knuckles whitening as the Duke boasted about Garet's achievements abroad and his plans to bring prosperity to the countryside.

"This is Lord Garet Timothy, my heir," the Duke announced grandly. "He will not only elevate our estates but strengthen the connections between noble families through his wisdom and charm."

As the introductions continued, Delinda maneuvered herself closer to the Duke. "My lord," she said with a voice like honey, "perhaps we might also commend Edward's contributions? He has shown such promise in managing the estate's accounts. Surely, that deserves acknowledgment."

The Duke glanced at her briefly, his enthusiasm dimming. "Yes, of course. Edward is an asset in his own way," he said dismissively, waving a hand before returning his focus to Garet.

Edward, standing at the edge of the group, flushed with humiliation as the nobles barely turned to acknowledge him. Delinda's frustration deepened, but she quickly masked it, determined to turn the tide in her favor.

After the formalities, Garet excused himself to take a breather. He slipped outside into the cool evening air, leaving the heated atmosphere behind. Delinda noted the subtle ease with which the nobles gravitated toward him and resolved that this imbalance in attention could not continue.

This time, as he strolled,he was joined by a young man who approached with a confident stride.

"Good evening, Lord Garet," the man said with a slight bow. "I am Henry Fairchild. My father has spoken highly of you."

Garet nodded politely. "Good evening, Henry."

"I thought I'd take the air as well," Henry continued. "These celebrations can be... suffocating, can't they?"

"They can," Garet replied tersely.

Henry pressed on, attempting to engage Garet in conversations, trying to form a connection, but his efforts were met with curt replies. He needed to form an alias with Garet, that would boost their families business.

"Do I bore you, my lord?" Henry finally asked, his tone tinged with irritation.

"Yes, Henry," Garet said bluntly. "I am not in the mood to discuss business or the countryside. Now, if you'll excuse me."

With that, Garet strode away, leaving Henry fuming. They're all the same, they always look down on us.

As the festivities drew to a close, Hazel, her mother, and Lady Elisabeth returned home, their hearts full of the evening's excitement. The remaining guests either departed or retired to the Duke's estate for the night.

Though the night was filled with joy and laughter, Lady Elisabeth lay awake, her mind consumed with worry. She could only hope that Garet would read the letter and begin to understand the truth she had kept hidden for so long.