Page 38 of The Duke’s Duet

Understanding?

Sympathy?

Concern?

"If you've come to lecture me about propriety—"

"I've come," she cut in gently, "to talk about what happened last night. About what I saw - what everyone saw - during that performance."

"We created something beautiful. Even you must admit that."

His fingers traced idle patterns on his desk.

"Beautiful? Yes. The musicianship was extraordinary. The artistic connection undeniable." She paused, then added softly, "But we both know it wasn't just artistic connection on that stage."

Harper's fingers stilled.

"Mother—"

"Let me finish." She moved closer, her skirts rustling in the quiet room. "I saw your father look at me that way once. In a garden in Florence, when protocol and position meant nothing compared to the music we made together."

The reference to their own love story caught him off guard.

"That was different."

"Was it? Because I remember exactly how it felt to sing with someone and know that they saw past every carefully constructed facade to the real person beneath. To feel that perfect harmony and know it meant something more than just music."

Her words struck too close to home. Harper turned away, but not before she caught the flash of pain across his face.

"Miss Piper," she continued carefully, "is undoubtedly talented. Her passion for music is genuine, her artistic integrity beyond question. In many ways, she reminds me of myself at that age - full of dreams and determination, believing that love and music could conquer all obstacles."

"But they didn't, did they?" Harper's voice emerged harsher than intended. "Father changed. The music died. Duty won."

"Your father did what he had to do. What you must do now."

"Must I? Must I deny everything real and true in my life for the sake of proper behaviour? Become another empty shell of a Duke, going through the motions without feeling?"

"Is that what you think your father was?" His mother's voice sharpened. "An empty shell? He loved me until his dying day. Loved music too, though he couldn't show it. But he understood what you seem determined to ignore - that some things matter more than personal happiness."

"Like society's good opinion? Like maintaining proper distance from those beneath our station?"

"Like protecting those we care about." She touched his arm gently. "Have you considered what this attention will do to Miss Piper's reputation? Already the whispers have begun. Some say she's attempting to trap you into marriage. Others suggest a less honourable arrangement. Either way, her professional standing will suffer."

The truth of her words hit him like a physical blow.

He'd been so caught up in their musical connection, in the joy of creating something genuine together, that he hadn't fully considered the consequences for Melody's reputation.

"I would never let anyone harm her," he said quietly.

"And how will you prevent it? By challenging every person who speaks against her? By defending her honour in a way that will only confirm their worst suspicions?" His mother shook her head. "The ton can be cruel, Brightwood. Especially to those they consider outsiders. Miss Piper's position is already precarious - a professional performer who must maintain respectability to support her family. One hint of scandal could destroy everything she's worked for."

Harper’s fingers went back to his desk, gripping its edge as if it might steady him.

"What would you have me do?"

"Be what you must be. What your position requires. Complete the concert series with proper dignity and distance. Then..." She hesitated. "Then find a suitable match among your own circle. Someone who understands our world, who can help you bear the weight of your responsibilities."

"Someone like Lady Harriet?" The bitterness in his voice surprised even him. "Someone who thinks Mozart's works are 'simple pieces' and worries about maintaining proper posture while playing?"