Page 66 of The Duke’s Duet

She trailed off, but they both knew what she meant. Before his father's harsh lessons about duty and dignity. Harper's hands stilled on the keys.

"I thought that you approved of father's methods. Of making me understand the weight of my position."

"Did I?" Something in her voice made him turn to look at her. "Or did I simply fail to protect you from becoming what everyone else thought you should be?" The admission hung in the air between them. In the gathering darkness, her face held shadows of old regret. "I met with Miss Piper this morning," she said after a moment. "Such an extraordinary young woman. Talented, yes, but more than that - she has a rare integrity about her. A passion for her art that reminds me..." She smiled slightly. "Well, that reminds me of myself, long ago."

"Mother..."

"Let me finish." She rose, moving to stand beside the pianoforte. "I gave her something - a small pin I was given in Florence, before I married your father. Before I learned to suppress my own musical passion to become a 'proper' Duchess."

Harper's fingers traced a soft chord.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I see you making the same choice I made. Choosing safety over passion. Choosing what others expect over what your heart knows is right." She touched his shoulder gently. "And because I've watched you these past months, performing with her. I've seen you come alive again, seen you remember the joy that music once brought you."

"It doesn't matter what I feel," Harper said, though the words felt hollow even to himself. "A Duke has responsibilities, obligations—"

"Yes, he does." His mother's voice sharpened. "Responsibilities to his estates, to his dependents, to the legacy he protects. But answer this, which I asked you once before - would those responsibilities be better served by a Duchess who understands your soul, or one who simply knows the proper forms?"

He stared at her, stunned.

"You cannot possibly be suggesting..."

"I suggest nothing." But her eyes held a warmth he hadn't seen in years. "I merely observe that Miss Piper possesses qualities many of our circle lack - genuine talent, true artistic understanding, the ability to see past position to the person beneath. Rather like a certain Italian Countess once did."

"That was different. You were at least of noble birth—"

"As I told you some time ago, it wasn’t really that different. I was Catholic in Protestant England. I was foreign when nationalism ran high. I knew nothing of running English estates or managing aristocratic households." She moved to the window, staring out at the darkening gardens. "But I knew your father's heart. Knew it through the music we shared, through the connection that transcended all of those other considerations."

The parallel to his situation with Melody once again struck him like a physical blow.

"But Father changed. Became what society expected. Gave up music for duty."

"Yes." The single word held volumes of old pain. "And I still wonder if he regretted that choice in the end. If he looked at you, saw your passion for music, and remembered what he'd lost in choosing safety over truth." She turned back to face him, and in the fading light he saw tears in her eyes. "When you were young, before his fears changed him, your father would play for hours. Would compose pieces that spoke of everything in his heart. Rather like that composition you gave Miss Piper last night."

Harper's hands clenched on the keys, drawing forth a discord.

"You knew about that?"

"Of course I knew. I've heard you playing it late at night these past days. Pouring everything you couldn't say into the music, just as he once did." She stepped closer, laying one hand over his on the keys. "But you have a choice that he never did. You're already the Duke. Your position is secure. You have the power to shape society's expectations rather than being bound by them."

"Even if that were true," Harper said, his voice rough with suppressed emotion, "what of her career? Her dreams of performing in Italy? Would you have me ask her to give up everything she's worked for?"

"Why should she give up anything?" His mother's voice held a note of challenge. "Who says that a Duchess cannot perform? Cannot share her gift with the world? The ton already admires her talent - they would simply have to admire it in a different context."

"You make it sound so simple."

"Perhaps because you're making it more complicated than necessary." She moved to her private cabinet in the corner, and Harper watched in confusion as she opened it, then reached in to what appeared an empty shelf. Seconds later, he heard a distinct ‘click’ and then she turned back to him, withdrawing something from the cabinet that gleamed in the last light. "Do you know what this is?"

Harper rose to look.

In her hands lay a delicate music box, its surface inlaid with mother of pearl.

"I've never seen it before."

"No. I kept it hidden after... after your father changed." She opened it, and a familiar Italian melody filled the room. "He gave it to me in Florence, had it made specially. Said that even if society tried to silence our music, we would always have this - this reminder of what brought us together."

The tune played on, sweet and pure in the gathering darkness.