Page 31 of The Duke’s Duet

"Yes." The simple word felt like it had been torn from his chest. "That's what she has, Mother. What she brings to every piece we perform. Not just technical skill - though God knows she has that - but real joy. Real passion. She makes me remember what music felt like before... before duty killed everything genuine in our house."

"Miss Piper," his mother said carefully, "is undoubtedly talented. Her passion for music is admirable, and her influence on your playing has been... remarkable. But Harper..." She touched his arm gently. "She is not of our world. She cannot understand the weight of responsibility that comes with your position."

"Cannot understand?" He gave a harsh laugh. "Mother, she understands better than any of the perfectly trained young ladies in there. She knows what it means to have real obligations - to support her family through her art, to maintain her dignity in the face of society's condescension, to pour her heart into her music even when people treat her as mere entertainment."

"And is that what draws you to her? Her understanding? Her artistic integrity?" His mother's voice remained gentle, but her eyes were sharp. "Or perhaps something more personal?"

"What would you have me say?" He pulled away from her touch, pacing the length of the terrace. "That I admire her courage? Her dedication to her art? Her refusal to let society's rules crush her spirit? Yes, I admire all of those things. But more than that..." He stopped, again gripping the balustrade until his knuckles whitened. "More than that, I envy her freedom to be true to herself."

"Freedom?" His mother's laugh held no humour. "You think she's free? A woman who must perform to earn her bread? Who faces the ton's judgment every time she opens her mouth to sing?"

"At least she can be honest about who she is, what she feels. She doesn't have to pretend that music means nothing to her, that passion is somehow beneath her dignity."

"No," his mother said softly.

“No?”

He had to ask, had to understand what his mother meant.

"No. She merely has to face the possibility of ruin if she puts a foot wrong. Has to endure the advances of men who think her profession makes her available for their pleasure. Has to navigate a world which will never truly accept her, no matter how talented she might be."

The words struck him like physical blows, each one highlighting the impossible gulf between his world and Melody's.

"I would never let anyone..."

"You would never let anyone what?" His mother's voice sharpened. "Harm her? Compromise her? And how would you prevent it? By offering her your protection? Do you think that would help her reputation, or destroy it completely?"

Harper closed his eyes against the truth of her words.

"I don't... that's not what I..."

"My son." The gentleness in her voice was almost worse than anger would have been. "I see how you look at her when she sings. I recognise that look - I saw it in your father's eyes once, in a garden in Florence. But he was a second son then, free to follow his heart. You are the Duke of Brightwood. Your choices affect not just yourself, but everyone who depends on you."

"I know my duty," he said, the words tasting like ashes in his mouth. "I know what's expected of me."

"Do you? Because from where I stand, you seem to be teetering on the edge of something dangerous. Something that could harm not just you, but her as well." She moved closer, reaching up to touch his cheek as she had when he was a child. "I don't say these things to hurt you, Harper. But I remember what it was to be young, to believe that love could conquer all obstacles. The world is not so simple."

"Then what would you have me do? Marry someone like Lady Harriet? Spend my life pretending to be content with shallow conversations and proper accomplishments?"

"I would have you remember who you are, and what that means. Not just for you, but for everyone around you," she hesitated, then added softly, "including Miss Piper."

The implications of her words hung heavy in the air. Before he could respond, the music from the ballroom changed - a new dance beginning, one that would require the Duke's presence.

"They'll be looking for you," his mother said. "Lady Harriet was most disappointed when you left earlier."

"Let them look."

But even as he said it, he knew that he would go back inside.

Would dance with Lady Harriet and all of the other suitable young ladies. Would play his part in this endless performance that was his life.

But as his mother turned to leave, one last thought crystallised in his mind.

He would do his duty, yes. But he would also perform that duet with Melody at the next concert. One small act of rebellion, one moment of pure truth in a world of careful lies.

His mother paused at the terrace door, looking back at him.

"Harper... be careful. Not everyone can afford the luxury of following their heart."

She disappeared inside, leaving him alone with the moonlight and the memory of Melody's voice, singing of choices between duty and desire.