Page 55 of The Duke’s Duet

Then, "Shall we try the Mozart next?"

They worked through the remainder of their selected pieces, each more emotionally charged than the last.

Their musical connection had never been stronger - every nuance perfectly matched, every interpretation somehow both surprising and inevitable. It was as if their hearts spoke directly to each other through the music, saying all of the things that they couldn't voice aloud.

During one particularly passionate phrase, Melody dared to look at Brightwood directly. The careful mask he usually wore had vanished, replaced by an expression of such raw feeling that it stole her breath. For a moment, their eyes met and held, and everything else fell away - duty, position, the impossibility of their situation. There was only this - their souls touching through the music they created together.

The piece ended, leaving them both slightly breathless. Before either could speak, a knock at the door announced the maid's arrival with the morning's refreshments.

"Mrs Williams took the liberty," she said, setting down the tea tray with unusual grace, "of sending your favourite blend, Your Grace. And those little almond cakes that Miss Piper loves."

The thoughtful gesture made Melody's throat tight. Even the Brightwood House staff, it seemed, sensed that this rehearsal was different. Special. Final.

After the maid departed, a strange silence fell between them. Brightwood stood at the window, teacup untouched in his hand, while Melody pretended to study the music scores. The morning had grown warmer, sunshine filling the room with golden light that seemed to mock the heaviness in her heart.

"Your interpretation of the Schubert..." Brightwood's voice was oddly hesitant. "You've been studying it long?"

"No." She traced the notes on the page before her, not looking up. "Sometimes music speaks to us more clearly in certain moments. When we better understand the emotions behind it."

"Like the piece about parting at dawn?"

The question held layers of meaning she wasn't ready to face.

"Yes. Like that."

He set his cup down with careful precision.

"The weather is quite fine today. Perhaps... perhaps you might be persuaded to take a turn about the park? The fresh air might be beneficial before our next piece."

The suggestion startled her into looking up. They had never walked together outside of formal occasions like the evening at Vauxhall. Such an activity, just the two of them, bordered on improper.

"I'm not sure that would be wise, Your Grace."

"Hyde Park will be full of people at this hour." His voice held something almost like pleading. "All quite proper and observable. And I... I find that I would value the opportunity to discuss music away from this room. Just this once."

Just this once.

The words echoed in her mind, carrying the weight of endings, of lasts, of everything that could never be. She should refuse. Should maintain professional distance. Should protect both of their reputations.

Instead, she heard herself speak, the words seeming somehow separated from her person.

"Very well. Though perhaps we should bring the new scores, to maintain the appearance of a professional discussion?"

The smile that crossed his face - brief but blindingly genuine - made her heart turn over.

"An excellent suggestion. Shall we?"

As they gathered their things, Melody caught their reflection in the window glass - the Duke in his perfectly tailored morning coat, herself in her best walking dress, both of them trying so hard to maintain proper distance while standing close enough that their sleeves almost brushed. The image would stay with her, she knew, long after she left for Italy.

The sealed contract in her reticule seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment. She would tell him during their walk, she decided. Would make the break clean and swift, like setting a broken bone. Better to end things now, while she still had the courage.

But as they stepped out into the spring sunshine, Brightwood's face softer than she'd ever seen it, she wondered if anything about this parting could ever be clean or swift or easy.

*****

Hyde Park glowed in the sunshine, its paths filled with fashionable people taking their morning exercise. Melody walked beside Brightwood, maintaining a proper distance while acutely aware of his every movement. They carried several music scores between them - a plausible excuse for their conversation, should anyone question the propriety of their being together.

"Tell me," Brightwood said as they followed a tree-lined path, "when did you first know music would be your life?"