Page 21 of The Duke’s Duet

Time seemed to stop on the misty dockside as Melody stared at Harper, her heart thundering against her ribs. His words echoed in her mind - about truth, about music, about finally finding courage. The morning sun caught in his dishevelled hair, and turned his eyes to molten silver as he waited for her response.

But how could she respond? This was everything she'd dreamed of, everything she'd thought impossible. The garnets at her breast pulsed with warmth, reminding her of the Dowager Duchess' subtle hints about timing and patience. Had she known this moment would come? Had she seen in her son the same battle between duty and desire that she'd once lived through herself? Yet the very impossibility of it made her hesitate. A Duke and a music master's daughter? The ton would be scandalised. Every carefully built connection, every hard-won opportunity she'd created through her performances would be tainted by gossip. They'd say she'd trapped him, used her arts to seduce him away from his proper sphere.

"I know what you're thinking," Harper said softly, stepping closer. His voice held that particular tone she'd only ever heard during their most perfect musical moments together. "About society's rules, about the difference in our stations. But answer me this - when we perform together, when music flows between us, do those differences matter? Or do we create something that transcends all of those artificial barriers?"

"Creating music together is one thing," she managed, though her voice trembled. "Building a life together, that's something else entirely. I love you, but because of that, I must ask, have you truly considered what it would mean, choosing someone like me? The gossip, the scandal—"

"I've considered everything." His voice held absolute certainty. "I've spent weeks thinking of nothing else. And yes, there would be gossip. Yes, some doors might close to us. But think of what we could build together - think of how we could change people's understanding of what music can be, what marriage can be, what society can become."

She swallowed hard against the hope rising in her chest. Around them, the usual dockside chaos continued - porters shouting, sailors calling to each other, passengers hurrying aboard. But here in this moment, it felt like they stood in their own private world, as it did during those precious moments when their music created something larger than themselves.

"And my career? My music?" The questions emerged soft but intense. "Would you truly support my performing? Or would duty eventually force you to make me into a proper Duchess, silent and decorative?"

The memory of their duet rose between them - the perfect harmony they'd created, the way that audiences had responded to their combined artistry. How could she give that up? How could she become just another society matron, pretending that music was merely an accomplishment rather than the breath of her soul?

"Your music is who you are." Harper's words cut through her fears. "Asking you to give it up would be like asking you to stop breathing. I've watched you perform, seen how you pour your whole being into every note. That passion, that dedication - it's part of what I love about you." The word 'love', now said for the second time in as many minutes, sent tremors through her entire body. She'd heard it in his music, felt it in the way they performed together, but to hear it spoken aloud... "Your career would continue. Grow. Flourish." He caught her hands in his, heedless of their watching audience. "Who says that a Duchess cannot perform? Cannot share her gift with the world? We would face challenges, yes, but we would face them together. As partners. As equals in the only thing that truly matters - the music that we create together."

The ship's bell rang again, more urgently. Signor Bianchi shifted impatiently nearby, muttering in Italian about tides and schedules. But Melody barely heard him, too caught in the intensity of Harper's gaze.

"You make it sound so simple," she whispered, though her heart yearned to believe him. Every word he spoke resonated with truths she'd felt during their performances together - that perfect understanding that transcended social barriers, that connection that made music more than just notes on a page.

"Not simple. Never simple. But possible." His thumbs traced patterns on her palms that sent shivers up her arms - the same patterns he used when expressing particular emotion in their music. "We've proven that impossible things are possible. Every time we performed together, every time we found perfect harmony despite our different approaches - we proved that barriers can be crossed, that new paths can be forged."

Clara's presence at her side offered silent support, while her father watched with an expression she'd never seen before - concern mixed with something that looked almost like hope. Even Signor Bianchi had stopped his impatient pacing to watch them with the appreciation he usually reserved for particularly moving opera scenes.

The morning sun broke fully through the fog, turning the river to molten gold behind them. In this light, Harper looked nothing like the rigid Duke she'd first met. His clothes might be dishevelled from his desperate run through London's streets, but his face held a freedom she'd only ever glimpsed during their most passionate performances.

Could it really be possible? Could they create something new together, something that bridged both their worlds? She thought of the Dowager Duchess' words about timing and patience, about how times were changing. Thought of how their audiences had responded to their performances - not with condescension, but with genuine appreciation for the art they created together.

The garnets at her breast seemed to pulse with renewed warmth, as if carrying their own message about courage and unconventional choices.

How many times had she pushed against society's constraints through her music? How many times had she proven that passion and precision could work together, just as she and Harper had done?

"Your Grace." Her father's voice cut through her whirling thoughts, firm but not unkind. "Might I have a word?"

Harper released her hands reluctantly, and Melody felt the loss like a sudden silence in the middle of a symphony. She watched him move aside with her father, their heads bent in serious conversation. Everything - her future, her heart, her music - hung on what passed between them.

"He loves you." Clara's whisper carried certainty. "Anyone who heard you perform together knows that. But this... running through London like a madman, risking everything... this proves it beyond doubt."

Melody's heart seemed to grow wings in her chest. She'd heard that love in his music, felt it in the way they performed together. But to have it declared so openly, to have him willing to defy society's rules for her...

The ship's captain called down again about the tide, his voice sharp with impatience. But for the first time since arriving at the docks, Melody felt no urge to hurry toward that gangplank, toward a future that suddenly seemed pale and empty compared to the possibilities before her.

*****

Harper's heart seemed suspended between beats as Mr. Piper requested a private word. Still holding Melody's hands, he found himself reluctant to release them, as if she might disappear the moment that he let go. But her father's request held the weight of generations of propriety, of a father's right to protect his daughter's interests.

"Of course, sir." He forced himself to step back, to face this next challenge with the same courage that had driven him through London's streets. "Though I warn you, nothing you say will change my mind or my heart."

They moved slightly apart from the crowd, though Harper remained acutely aware of Melody's presence, of her sister's excited whispers, of Signor Bianchi's theatrical gestures as he attempted to placate the increasingly impatient ship's captain.

"Your Grace." Mr. Piper's voice held that particular tone Harper remembered from their rehearsals - the music master evaluating a complex piece. "You must understand my position. As her father, I have spent her entire life protecting her, nurturing her gift while trying to shield her from society's harsher judgments."

"I understand, sir." Harper straightened, letting all his Ducal authority show despite his dishevelled appearance. "I assure you, my intentions are entirely honourable. I would have done this properly, approached you first, but time..." He glanced at the ship still preparing to sail. "Time forced my hand."

"And you're certain?" Mr. Piper's eyes held his steadily. "Certain enough to face society's disapproval? To weather the inevitable gossip? To support her career rather than suppress it? Because I tell you plainly, Your Grace - to cage such a spirit would destroy her."

"More certain than I've ever been of anything." The words rang with absolute truth. "I spent my whole life trying to be the perfect Duke, letting my father's fears rule my choices. But your daughter showed me a better way - showed me that true nobility comes from following one's heart, not from following rigid rules."

A hint of a smile touched Mr. Piper's mouth.

Harper smiled in return.

"She does have that affect on people."

"She does." Harper's voice softened. "And I swear to you, I will spend my life ensuring that she has every opportunity to affect others the same way. To share her gift, her passion, her extraordinary ability to make music come alive."

"Pretty words, Your Grace. But the reality may be harder than you imagine. The ton can be cruel to those who defy its expectations."

"Let them be cruel." Harper's voice hardened with determination. "I have wealth enough to ignore their disdain, position enough to create our own society if need be. And the war..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "The war has changed things, people now question the old rigid rules."

Mr. Piper studied him for a long moment that felt like eternity. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"I believe that you mean that."

"With all my heart."

"Then perhaps..." Mr. Piper's expression turned thoughtful. "Perhaps there might be a way to make this work. To give you both what you want while protecting what you've built."

Hope surged in Harper's chest.

"What do you suggest?"

"Six months." The words emerged careful, measured. "Let her go to Italy as planned - but only for six months. Time enough to establish her reputation independently, so that none can say she succeeded only through your influence. Time enough for you to prepare society, to show them that a Duke need not be bound by antiquated prejudices."

The suggestion struck Harper with the force of revelation. Six months. An eternity and an instant. Time enough to reshape society's expectations, to prove that their love was more than mere infatuation.

"It would give credence to her career," he said slowly, the possibilities unfolding in his mind. "No one could say that she hadn't earned her success. And I could begin introducing the idea of change gradually, through carefully chosen social interactions..."

"Precisely." Mr. Piper glanced at his daughter, who stood watching them with barely concealed tension. "And when she returns, it would be as an acclaimed artist in her own right, not merely as..."

"Not merely as a Duke's choice." Harper completed the thought. "She would have her own power, her own position in society."

"I see that you understand."

"I do." And he did – he understood completely how this solution would protect both Melody's reputation and her independence. "But..." He hesitated. "Would she agree? After I've run halfway across London to stop her leaving?"

Mr. Piper's smile widened slightly.

"Why don't we ask her?"

Harper turned to find Melody watching them, her face alight with an emotion that made his heart soar. But before he could speak, Mr. Piper raised his hand and spoke directly to Melody.

"One moment. I have a suggestion - one that might satisfy both love and duty." He glanced towards the ship where Signor Bianchi paced anxiously. "The opportunity in Italy is real, and valuable. Six months there would establish your reputation beyond question, Melody. And..." His eyes held meaning as they met Harper's. "Six months would give society time to adjust to the idea of an unconventional match. Time for certain preparations to be made."

Harper's mind raced with possibilities.

"A formal courtship could be announced before your departure," he said slowly, the plan taking shape. "Letters exchanged, intentions made clear. By the time you return..."

"Society would have had time to reconcile itself to the idea," Melody finished, her voice soft with wonder. "And my career would be established enough that no one could claim..."

She stopped, colour staining her cheeks.

"That you had ulterior motives?" Harper moved to take her hands in his. "Let them claim what they will. We know the truth of our hearts."

"Your Grace." Mr. Piper's voice held gentle warning. "Perhaps you might convince our good friend Signor Bianchi, and the ship’s Captain, to delay departure by one day? I suspect that money would be persuasive on that issue. It seems we have certain matters to discuss, and arrangements to make."

Harper squeezed Melody's hands once before releasing them.

"I believe that I can be quite persuasive when motivated." His smile felt wider than propriety allowed, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Especially if it means gaining time to do things properly."

The next hour passed in a whirl of activity. Signor Bianchi, initially distraught at the delay, became positively effusive when he understood the situation.

The ship's captain was handsomely compensated for the inconvenience, although his other passengers grumbled. Clara embraced her sister with tears of joy, while dock workers who had paused to watch the drama unfold offered gruff congratulations.

Through it all, Harper felt as if he were moving in a dream - the best kind of dream, where impossible things became possible, where duty and desire found perfect harmony.

Every time he caught Melody's eye, every time their hands brushed as they made arrangements, music seemed to play in his heart.

"We should inform my mother," he said finally, when the immediate chaos had settled. "Would all of you do us the honour of dining at Brightwood House this evening? We can make our understanding formal then."

Mr. Piper nodded, his eyes twinkling.

"I believe that we would be delighted. Though perhaps we might stop at home first? I suspect that my daughters would prefer to change before dining with a Duchess."

"Of course." Harper signalled his carriage forward. "I see that my poor coachman finally managed to get here, despite the mess of London’s roads. Might I offer transport, to those who will fit in my conveyance? And perhaps..." He hesitated, then forged ahead. "Perhaps Miss Piper would allow me to escort her? With proper chaperonage, of course."

The look Melody gave him then - joy and love and laughter all mixed together - made his heart skip several beats.

They had so much yet to face, so many challenges ahead.

But in that moment, watching her accept his hand into the carriage while her father and sister followed, Harper knew with bone-deep certainty that they would face it all together, in perfect harmony.

*****

The small dining room at Brightwood House glowed with candlelight, creating an atmosphere of intimate celebration. Harper watched his mother's face as she took in the scene before her - Melody seated at his right hand, her father and sister completing their small party.

The Dowager Duchess had greeted the news of their understanding with a complex mixture of emotions that fascinated him. Surprise had warred with satisfaction, concern with what looked suspiciously like triumph.

"Six months in Italy," she said now, swirling the wine in her glass. "A very sensible arrangement. And of course, there will be letters?"

"Daily, if possible." Harper couldn't stop his eyes from straying to Melody's face. She wore the garnets his mother had given her, their deep red catching the candlelight like captured fire. "Though I fear words alone will be a poor substitute for music."

"Ah, but anticipation adds sweetness to any performance." His mother's voice held meaning beyond the obvious. "And six months will give us time to prepare everything properly. The Season will be over, but there will be will be many autumn balls and other events underway when you return, my dear." This to Melody. "We shall make quite an occasion of your debut into society."

The implications weren't lost on any of them. By the time that Melody returned from Italy, she would be known not just as a talented performer, but as the future Duchess of Brightwood.

Any opposition would have to face that simple fact.

"I confess," Mr. Piper said, setting down his fork, "I had not expected quite such a... warm reception to our arrangement."

The Dowager Duchess' smile held centuries of aristocratic assurance.

"My dear Mr. Piper, I have watched your daughter bring my son back to life through music. I have seen them create something extraordinary together. And I..." She paused, her eyes distant with memory. "I know something about crossing social boundaries for the sake of one's heart."

The conversation then turned to practical matters - arrangements for correspondence, plans for Melody's return, for the gradual introduction of their understanding to society. Harper listened with half an ear, most of his attention focused on the woman beside him. How had he ever thought that he could let her go? How had duty seemed more important than this connection between them?

When the meal ended, Melody rose.

"Would you play with me? One last time before..."

Her voice caught slightly.

"Never the last time," he promised, leading her to the music room, to the pianoforte. "Just the last time for a while."

Their families drew back, giving them space as Harper settled at the instrument. Melody stood beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her presence, could catch the subtle scent of lavender that he would dream of during their separation.

"What shall we play?" he asked softly.

Her smile held perfect understanding.

"Perhaps the duet? The one that started everything?"

His fingers found the opening notes without conscious thought. When Melody's voice joined his, everything else faded away - duty, society, even the weight of their coming separation. There was only this - their perfect harmony, their souls touching through the music they created together.

Their families might be watching, but in this moment they were alone in their own world of music and meaning. Every phrase carried memories of their journey together, every harmony spoke of their future. When the final notes faded, Harper looked up to find tears shining in Melody's eyes.

"How will I bear six months without this?" she whispered.

He caught her hand, pressing it to his heart.

"By remembering that every note you sing in Italy brings you closer to coming home. To coming back to our music, our life, our future together."

The word 'home' seemed to reach something deep inside her. Her fingers tightened on his as she smiled through her tears.

"Our music," she repeated softly. "Always our music."

Tomorrow would bring another very early morning, with proper goodbyes and formal arrangements at the ship. But tonight, in this candlelit room with their families watching indulgently, they had this moment of perfect understanding. This promise of everything yet to come.