Page 1 of The Duke’s Duet

Prologue

Harper Devereaux, Duke of Brightwood, stepped through the ornate doors of his London residence with a heavy sigh. Though the gentle April breeze carried the scent of spring blossoms through the streets, his afternoon at White's had left him with a throbbing headache. The endless discussions of Parliament, horse racing, and the latest on-dits had been particularly tedious today.

"Good afternoon, Your Grace," Simmons, his butler, materialised in the foyer, accepting Harper's hat and gloves with practiced efficiency. "I trust your afternoon was pleasant?"

"Hardly," Harper replied, straightening his already immaculate cuffs. "Has anything of import occurred during my absence?"

Simmons' face remained impassive, but Harper detected a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

"The Dowager Duchess awaits your presence in your study, Your Grace. She mentioned a matter of some urgency."

Harper suppressed a groan. His mother's ‘urgent matters’ typically involved attempts to draw him further into society than he cared to venture. Since inheriting the Dukedom three years ago, he had fulfilled his responsibilities with meticulous attention — managing his estates, participating in the House of Lords, maintaining the family's standing — but he preferred to do so from the periphery of social affairs.

"Very well. Bring tea to the study."

"At once, Your Grace."

Harper made his way down the corridor, his footsteps muffled by the thick Aubusson carpet. The familiar scent of beeswax and leather greeted him as he opened the door to his sanctuary. His mother sat in one of the wing chairs near the fireplace, her posture as regal as ever, despite her advancing years. Catherine, Dowager Duchess of Brightwood, was a formidable woman whose delicate appearance belied her iron will.

"Brightwood," she acknowledged, using his title as was her custom. "I was beginning to think you intended to spend the entire day at your club."

"Mother." He bent to kiss her cheek before taking the seat opposite. "Simmons mentioned that you had something urgent to discuss?"

The Dowager Duchess arranged her dove-grey skirts with careful precision.

"Indeed. I have been contemplating our position in society."

Harper immediately tensed. Such openings rarely boded well.

"Our position appears perfectly secure to me," he replied cautiously.

"Secure, yes, but not advancing." Her shrewd eyes assessed him. "You have done admirably in maintaining the Brightwood legacy, but there is more to be done if you wish to enhance our standing."

"And what, pray tell, do you believe requires enhancement?"

"Your reputation as a patron of worthy causes." She leaned forward, her voice warming with enthusiasm. "I have had the most excellent idea - a series of charity concerts to benefit war veterans."

Harper blinked.

"Concerts?"

"Five of them, spaced throughout the Season. With peace now restored to the Continent, society has been rather quick to forget the sacrifices made by our brave soldiers. Many have returned wounded, unable to support themselves or their families."

Harper's brow furrowed. While he had no quarrel with supporting veterans — indeed, he already contributed generously to several funds — the prospect of organising public events filled him with dread. Such affairs would require precisely the sort of visibility he preferred to avoid.

"Surely there are more efficient ways to assist veterans. A direct donation, perhaps?"

"Money alone is not the point." The Dowager Duchess dismissed his suggestion with a wave of her hand. "These concerts would serve multiple purposes. They would raise funds, certainly, but they would also remind society of its obligations to those who fought for England. More importantly, they would establish you as a man of compassion and cultural refinement."

A footman entered with the tea service, providing Harper a momentary reprieve as he collected his thoughts. Once they were alone again, he poured for them both, though that might normally be his mother’s prerogative, using the familiar ritual to delay his response.

"I appreciate your concern for my reputation, Mother, but I've little interest in hosting a series of musical entertainments merely to polish my social standing."

The Dowager Duchess accepted her cup, her expression turning serious.

"This is not merely about social standing, Brightwood. Consider Captain Winters."

Harper stilled. Captain James Winters had served with distinction before losing his leg at Waterloo. The son of a gentleman farmer, he had returned to find his family's modest estate nearly ruined by poor management in his absence.