Page 15 of The Duke’s Duet

Chapter Four

In the hushed darkness of midnight, Harper's fingers moved across the pianoforte keys, experimenting with the passage that had caused such heated debate during their rehearsal. Miss Piper's words echoed in his mind - "Music must breathe, Your Grace. It must live and feel..."

He tried the phrase again, this time allowing himself more freedom with the tempo. The notes seemed to float in the air, carrying an emotional weight he'd never permitted them before. It was... unsettling. Like opening a door he'd kept firmly locked for many years.

"Impossible woman," he muttered, though there was no heat in the words.

Instead, he found himself remembering the flash of passion in her amber eyes when she argued her interpretations, the graceful sweep of her throat as she demonstrated a particular phrase, the way her entire being seemed to light up when she sang.

The music under his fingers shifted without conscious thought, becoming something darker, more passionate. He recognised the dangerous path his thoughts were taking and forced his hands to still.

"Will there be anything else, Your Grace?"

Harper started at Simmons's quiet voice. He hadn't heard the butler approach - a sign of how distracted he'd become.

"No, thank you. Though..." He hesitated. "I trust that the household understands that my late-night practicing is not a topic for discussion?"

"Of course, Your Grace." Simmons's face remained carefully neutral, though Harper thought he detected a hint of sympathy in the old butler's eyes. "The staff are quite discrete about Your Grace's musical pursuits. As they have always been."

The gentle reminder of years of loyal service helped ease something in Harper's chest.

"Thank you, Simmons. That will be all."

Alone again, Harper closed the pianoforte lid with exquisite care. He should go to bed - he had business to attend to in the morning, duties that required a clear head. Yet he found himself wandering to the window instead, staring out at the moonlit garden while his mind circled endlessly around the problem of Miss Piper.

She was nothing like the women his mother usually paraded before him - no simpering debutante concerned only with fashion and status. Instead, she challenged him, pushed him, demanded that he be true to the music and, by extension, to himself. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.

*****

The next morning found Harper at his club, attempting to focus on the business matters that had piled up during his recent preoccupation with the concerts, and by extension, on the men he needed to spend time talking to.

The familiar surroundings of White's should have been soothing - the leather chairs worn to perfect comfort, the muted conversations of other gentlemen, the subtle scent of fine tobacco and even finer brandy. Instead, he found himself reading the same letter three times without absorbing its contents.

"Well, if it isn't our musical Duke!" Harper suppressed a groan as Lord Pembroke dropped into the chair opposite him. His old friend's eyes danced with barely suppressed amusement. "I must say, Brightwood, you've been the talk of the ton these past few days. Who would have thought you'd finally display your talents so publicly?"

"Hardly by choice," Harper replied drily. "Sometimes necessity dictates actions we would prefer to avoid."

"Oh? Was it necessity that had you watching Miss Piper so intently during her performance? Or perhaps it was necessity that made you follow her movements with such... appreciation?"

Harper set his papers aside with deliberate care, fighting to keep his expression neutral.

"I was merely ensuring that our performance met the standards expected of a Brightwood House event."

"Indeed?" Pembroke leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Then you'll be pleased to know that your... standards... were the talk of Lady Jersey's musical evening last night. Several young ladies were quite passionate in their praise of your performance. Lady Harriet was particularly enthusiastic."

The mention of Lady Harriet - one of his mother's favourite candidates for his future Duchess - should have interested him. Instead, Harper found himself remembering how Miss Piper's eyes had flashed when he'd suggested adhering strictly to the written tempo.

"The concert achieved its purpose," he said carefully. "The veterans' fund benefited considerably."

"Ah yes, charity. Such a noble cause." Pembroke's knowing smile suggested he wasn't fooled. "And the subsequent concerts will no doubt be equally... beneficial."

"If you have something to say, Charles, pray say it directly."

Pembroke glanced around, ensuring that they were private, then spoke with uncharacteristic seriousness.

"Very well. You're playing a dangerous game, Harper. Miss Piper may be a talented musician, but she's not of our world. The ton will tolerate your performing together for charity, but anything more would be... problematic."

"There is nothing more." The words tasted like ashes. "We are collaborating artists, nothing else."