Page 57 of The Duke’s Duet

"Oh yes," Lady Sophia's companion interjected with a knowing smile. "I hear that Lady Harriet has been practicing most diligently on the harp. Such a suitable accomplishment for a future Duchess."

The barb struck home, though Melody kept her face carefully neutral. She didn't dare look at Brightwood, afraid of what she might see in his expression.

"We should return," he said abruptly. "The morning grows late, and we have much yet to rehearse."

They made their farewells and turned back towards Brightwood House. The silence between them now felt absolute, impenetrable. Everything they might have said, might have felt, locked away behind walls of duty and propriety and sensible choices.

As they approached the house, Brightwood finally spoke again.

"I wish you every success in Italy, Miss Piper."

The formal words, the careful distance in his voice, broke something inside her.

"Is that all you have to say?"

He stopped walking, his face a study in controlled pain.

"What else would you have me say?"

The question hung between them, weighted with everything they had not said to each other, and now never would. There was no possible way that she could tell him, could express her now destroyed hopes, foolish as they had been. So Melody waited, her heart thundering against her ribs, but he said nothing more.

"Nothing, Your Grace," she said finally, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Nothing at all."