Page 65 of The Duke’s Duet

"Sometimes," Charles said softly from the doorway, "the bravest thing a man can do is admit that duty isn't everything. That some things matter more than rules and proper behaviour."

"And if I destroy both our lives by reaching for the impossible?"

"Then at least you'll have tried. At least you'll know." Charles's voice held years of friendship and understanding. "But from what I saw last night - what everyone saw - the only thing that could destroy you both is letting this chance slip away."

*****

Later that afternoon, Harper found himself at Pembroke House, ostensibly to discuss estate matters but really to escape the suffocating silence of his own study. Every room at Brightwood House seemed haunted by memories of Melody - her voice, her laughter, the way that she moved through his world as if she belonged there.

"Lucy wants to know if you'll join us for dinner," Charles said as they settled in his study. "She's convinced you shouldn't be alone tonight."

"Your wife's romantic sensibilities are showing again."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps she simply sees what's right in front of her." Charles poured them both brandy without asking. "She was there last night, you know. Says she's never seen anything quite like it - the way you performed together, the way you looked at each other during that final duet."

"Charles..." The warning in Harper's voice went unheeded.

"No, listen to me. You're not the only one who's noticed changes in society since the war. Lucy's brother - you remember Edwin? He married that American girl last month. Caused quite a stir at first, but now? Now society's falling all over themselves to praise her 'fresh perspective' and 'natural charm’."

"An American heiress is hardly the same as—"

"Isn't it? Both situations involve someone society initially considered unsuitable. Both involve crossing boundaries that seemed absolute." Charles leaned forward, his expression intent. "The difference is, Edwin had the courage to follow his heart."

Harper stared into his brandy as if it might hold answers.

"Even if... even if society could be persuaded... there's still her career to consider. Her dreams of performing in Italy."

"And who says she couldn't still perform? Good God, man, you're a Duke! If you chose to sponsor musical evenings where your Duchess performed, who would dare criticise? If you decided to tour the great opera houses of Europe together, who would refuse you entry?"

The possibilities in those words struck Harper with almost physical force. He remembered his mother's voice from long ago, singing Italian arias in her garden. Remembered how his father had eventually forbidden such displays as "unsuitable for a Duchess."

"I would never want to cage her," he said softly. "Never want to dim the fire that makes her so extraordinary."

"Then don't." Charles's voice gentled. "Be the kind of Duke who celebrates his wife's talents instead of suppressing them. Be the kind of man who's secure enough in himself to let the woman he loves shine."

"You make it sound so simple."

"Perhaps because it is simpler than you're making it." Charles set his glass aside. "The ton respect power, wealth, and position above all else. You have all three. Use them. Create the world you want to live in, instead of conforming to rules made by men long dead."

The afternoon light slanted through the study windows, catching the brandy glasses and turning them to amber flame. Harper thought of Melody's voice soaring through their duet, of the perfect harmony they'd created together. Thought of how she challenged him to be more than just his title, how she saw past every careful facade to the man beneath.

"She leaves tomorrow morning," he said finally. "The ship sails with the tide."

"Then you don't have much time to waste, do you?" Charles stood, moving to the door. "Lucy will be disappointed that you won't join us for dinner. But I suspect you have more important matters to attend to."

Harper remained seated, his mind whirling with possibilities he'd never allowed himself to consider. Could it really be that simple? Could duty and desire find harmony together, like two separate melodies weaving into something greater than either alone?

*****

Evening shadows were gathering when Harper returned to Brightwood House. He went directly to the music room, drawn there as if by some invisible force. The pianoforte stood silent in the fading light, but he could still hear echoes of their performances - Melody's voice soaring through complex passages, their perfect harmony in the duets, the way that music had allowed them to speak truths they dared not voice in words.

His fingers found the keys without conscious thought, drawing forth the melody from their final performance. But this time, he didn't try to maintain control. Instead, he let all of his feelings pour into the music - love, longing, regret, the desperate desire to throw aside duty and reach for what his heart wanted.

"You play it differently now." His mother's voice from the doorway made him start. "With feeling, rather than mere precision."

"Mother, I—"

"Don't stop." She moved into the room, settling onto the small sofa near the instrument. "I so rarely hear you play with real emotion anymore. It reminds me of when you were young, before..."