Page 26 of The Duke’s Duet

They worked through their usual pieces, but something had shifted between them. Every time their eyes met over the music, Melody felt that dangerous spark of connection. Every time their hands brushed turning pages, she had to suppress a shiver at the jolt of awareness that passed between them.

And sometimes, when the music grew particularly passionate, she caught him watching her with an intensity that made her wonder if he was thinking about their voices joining together again, about the possibility of creating something more than either of them could achieve alone. Something that might bridge the gulf between their worlds, if only for the length of a song.

*****

Lord and Lady Pembroke's music room gleamed with candlelight, the flames reflected in gilt-framed mirrors until the space seemed to glow from within. Melody stood near the pianoforte where her father waited to accompany her, fighting to keep her expression serene despite the flutter of nerves in her stomach.

This was different from performing at Brightwood House - more intimate, more exposed.

She hadn't expected to see Brightwood here. Yet there he was, standing with Lord Pembroke near the window, his evening black making him look even more aristocratic than usual. He hadn't acknowledged her beyond the briefest of nods, but she could feel his presence like a physical thing, drawing her attention no matter how she tried to focus on her preparation.

"Ready, my dear?" her father asked softly, his fingers poised above the keys.

Melody nodded, took a deep breath, and, as the music started, began to sing. She'd chosen simpler pieces for this evening - gentle ballads that suited the intimate setting.

Yet as her voice filled the room, she found herself adding subtle variations, small touches of emotion that she'd learned from working with Brightwood.

She didn't dare look directly at him, but she was acutely aware of his position, of the way that he shifted slightly to better hear her. When she reached a particularly moving passage, she sensed rather than saw him lean forward, caught up despite himself in the music.

The final notes faded into appreciative silence, followed by enthusiastic applause. Melody curtsied, thanking the audience with practiced grace. But before she could step away from the pianoforte, she found herself surrounded by a group of gentlemen, all eager to express their admiration.

"Exquisite, my dear, quite exquisite," drawled one, standing rather closer than necessary. "Such... passion… in your performance."

"You're too kind, sir," she murmured, trying to step back without appearing rude.

"Tell me," another moved to block her retreat, his smile sharp beneath his carefully waxed moustache, "do you give private performances? My music room has excellent... acoustics."

Melody's stomach turned at the implication in his tone.

"I'm afraid that my schedule is quite full with the charity concert series."

"Surely you could find time for more... intimate engagements?" A third gentleman joined in, his eyes roving over her in a way that made her skin crawl. "I would make it well worth your while."

She looked desperately for her father, but he had been drawn into conversation with Lady Pembroke about some technical aspect of the evening's music. She was effectively trapped by the circle of increasingly forward gentlemen.

"I really must decline—" she began, but was cut off by another suggestive comment barely disguised as musical appreciation.

*****

From across the room, Harper watched the scene unfold with growing tension. He'd been fighting his own reaction to Melody's performance - the way that her voice had seemed to speak directly to his soul, the subtle embellishments she'd added that echoed their work together, the grace of her movements as she sang.

But now, seeing those wolves circle her, watching her discomfort grow even as she maintained her polite smile, he felt something dark and primitive rise in his chest. His hands clenched at his sides as one particularly bold fortune hunter moved closer to her, practically leering.

She was his...

The thought shocked him with its intensity.

She wasn't his. Could never be his.

Yet his feet were moving before he could stop himself, carrying him across the room with measured stride.

"Miss Piper." He kept his voice even through sheer force of will. "I particularly enjoyed your interpretation of that last piece. The way that you varied the phrasing in the second movement was quite innovative."

The relief in her eyes as she turned to him made his chest ache.

"Thank you, Your Grace. I was experimenting with some of the ideas we discussed during rehearsal for the charity concerts."

The other gentlemen fell back slightly, unable to maintain their forward behaviour in the presence of a Duke. Harper pressed his advantage, drawing her into a detailed discussion of musical theory that soon had her eager admirers drifting away in search of less intellectual entertainment.