Page 56 of The Duke’s Duet

The question surprised her. They'd spoken of music countless times, but never quite so personally.

"I was very young. Perhaps six or seven. My father was teaching a student - a girl who clearly had no interest in learning, who treated the pianoforte as just another accomplishment to be mastered. I remember being furious that she was wasting such an opportunity."

"Furious?" His lips curved slightly. "Why does that not surprise me?"

"I stormed into the room and showed her exactly how the piece should be played - with proper feeling, proper interpretation. Papa was mortified. The girl's mother was scandalised. But the girl..." Melody smiled at the memory. "She actually improved after that. She said she'd never realised that music could be something more than just correct notes in correct order."

"You were teaching interpretation even then." His voice held something warm, almost tender. "Showing others how to feel the music rather than simply play it."

"As you've shown me how precision and passion can work together." The words emerged before she could stop them. "How structure can enhance emotion rather than constrain it."

They walked in silence for a moment, both aware of how their artistic collaboration had grown into something far deeper. A pair of fashionable ladies passed them, nodding to Brightwood while eyeing Melody with barely concealed curiosity.

"And you?" she asked, desperate to break the tension. "When did you first love music?"

"Always. Before I can remember. My mother used to sing Italian folk songs while working in her garden. But the first time I truly understood its power..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I was quite young, hiding in the music room after some childish mishap. A visiting musician was practicing on our pianoforte - something by Bach, I think. I watched his hands move across the keys and suddenly understood that music could express everything we couldn't say in words."

"What happened to that understanding?" She kept her voice gentle. "Before we began performing together, your playing was all technical precision, no emotion."

"You know what happened." His voice roughened slightly. "My father's lessons about proper behaviour, about maintaining dignity, about what a Duke must and must not do."

"And now? Now that you're the Duke?"

He stopped walking, turning to face her. The morning sun caught in his eyes, turning them from grey to silver.

"Now I find myself questioning everything that I thought I knew about duty and dignity and proper behaviour."

The intensity of his gaze made her heart stutter.

This was the moment, she knew. The perfect opening to tell him about her decision, to make the break clean before either of them said something they couldn't take back.

"I've signed Signor Bianchi's contract," she said quickly, before she could lose her courage. "I leave for Italy after the final concert."

All the warmth drained from his face. For a moment, he looked almost like he'd been struck. Then the careful mask of Ducal control slipped back into place.

"I... see." His voice emerged colourless, empty. "That is... most sensible."

"Yes." The word tasted like ashes. "Sensible. A remarkable opportunity."

They resumed walking, but something had shattered between them. The easy intimacy of their earlier conversation vanished, replaced by a silence that felt like shards of glass against her skin.

"Florence is beautiful in autumn," he said finally, his voice forcedly casual. "The light there... they say it's unlike anywhere else in the world."

"So I've heard." She clutched her music scores tighter, using the pressure to keep her voice steady. "Signor Bianchi speaks highly of the artistic community there. The appreciation for genuine talent, regardless of birth or station."

She hadn't meant it as a jab, but saw him flinch slightly, nonetheless. Before either could speak again, they encountered Lady Sophia, walking with her companion. The girl's face lit up at the sight of them.

"Miss Piper! Your Grace! How wonderful to meet you here. I've been practicing that piece you recommended - though I'm sure I'll never interpret it with half your passion."

Melody managed some appropriate response, but her attention was fixed on Brightwood. He stood slightly apart, his posture rigid with careful control, all trace of their earlier closeness erased.

Was this how it would be from now on?

This careful distance, this polite facade?

"I heard that you're to perform in Italy!" Lady Sophia continued enthusiastically. "How thrilling! Though we shall miss your concerts terribly here. No one else brings such life to the music."

"You're very kind." Melody forced herself to focus on the girl's words. "But I'm sure you'll find other entertainment."