Page 72 of The Duke’s Duet

Harper squeezed Melody's hands once before releasing them.

"I believe that I can be quite persuasive when motivated." His smile felt wider than propriety allowed, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Especially if it means gaining time to do things properly."

The next hour passed in a whirl of activity. Signor Bianchi, initially distraught at the delay, became positively effusive when he understood the situation.

The ship's captain was handsomely compensated for the inconvenience, although his other passengers grumbled. Clara embraced her sister with tears of joy, while dock workers who had paused to watch the drama unfold offered gruff congratulations.

Through it all, Harper felt as if he were moving in a dream - the best kind of dream, where impossible things became possible, where duty and desire found perfect harmony.

Every time he caught Melody's eye, every time their hands brushed as they made arrangements, music seemed to play in his heart.

"We should inform my mother," he said finally, when the immediate chaos had settled. "Would all of you do us the honour of dining at Brightwood House this evening? We can make our understanding formal then."

Mr. Piper nodded, his eyes twinkling.

"I believe that we would be delighted. Though perhaps we might stop at home first? I suspect that my daughters would prefer to change before dining with a Duchess."

"Of course." Harper signalled his carriage forward. "I see that my poor coachman finally managed to get here, despite the mess of London’s roads. Might I offer transport, to those who will fit in my conveyance? And perhaps..." He hesitated, then forged ahead. "Perhaps Miss Piper would allow me to escort her? With proper chaperonage, of course."

The look Melody gave him then - joy and love and laughter all mixed together - made his heart skip several beats.

They had so much yet to face, so many challenges ahead.

But in that moment, watching her accept his hand into the carriage while her father and sister followed, Harper knew with bone-deep certainty that they would face it all together, in perfect harmony.

*****

The small dining room at Brightwood House glowed with candlelight, creating an atmosphere of intimate celebration. Harper watched his mother's face as she took in the scene before her - Melody seated at his right hand, her father and sister completing their small party.

The Dowager Duchess had greeted the news of their understanding with a complex mixture of emotions that fascinated him. Surprise had warred with satisfaction, concern with what looked suspiciously like triumph.

"Six months in Italy," she said now, swirling the wine in her glass. "A very sensible arrangement. And of course, there will be letters?"

"Daily, if possible." Harper couldn't stop his eyes from straying to Melody's face. She wore the garnets his mother had given her, their deep red catching the candlelight like captured fire. "Though I fear words alone will be a poor substitute for music."

"Ah, but anticipation adds sweetness to any performance." His mother's voice held meaning beyond the obvious. "And six months will give us time to prepare everything properly. The Season will be over, but there will be will be many autumn balls and other events underway when you return, my dear." This to Melody. "We shall make quite an occasion of your debut into society."

The implications weren't lost on any of them. By the time that Melody returned from Italy, she would be known not just as a talented performer, but as the future Duchess of Brightwood.

Any opposition would have to face that simple fact.

"I confess," Mr. Piper said, setting down his fork, "I had not expected quite such a... warm reception to our arrangement."

The Dowager Duchess' smile held centuries of aristocratic assurance.

"My dear Mr. Piper, I have watched your daughter bring my son back to life through music. I have seen them create something extraordinary together. And I..." She paused, her eyes distant with memory. "I know something about crossing social boundaries for the sake of one's heart."

The conversation then turned to practical matters - arrangements for correspondence, plans for Melody's return, for the gradual introduction of their understanding to society. Harper listened with half an ear, most of his attention focused on the woman beside him. How had he ever thought that he could let her go? How had duty seemed more important than this connection between them?

When the meal ended, Melody rose.

"Would you play with me? One last time before..."

Her voice caught slightly.

"Never the last time," he promised, leading her to the music room, to the pianoforte. "Just the last time for a while."

Their families drew back, giving them space as Harper settled at the instrument. Melody stood beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her presence, could catch the subtle scent of lavender that he would dream of during their separation.