A Love Song for the Duke (Preview)

Chapter One

“Sophia? Could you help me with these?”

Sophia put the pile of music aside, grabbing at it as the pages started to slip, threatening to fall onto the floor. Sophia didn’t feel like sitting on the floor for the next two hours sorting through music that she had put into an order already. That had taken her all morning.

Adjusting the pile so it was safe, far away from the edge of the table, Sophia headed into the front of the shop. Her father was moving several music cases into the middle of the shop floor with a grimace. Sophia hurried to him.

“Father, you should have waited!” she scolded as she took the bulky cases off him. “You can’t manage so much weight. You know that.”

“I needed to get them into the shop before the rain got to them.” Allan Cluett grimaced as he massaged his knuckles. “The delivery man decided leaving them on the pavement was a good idea. You were taking too long.”

“I was trying to make sure I didn’t give myself more work if that music you asked me to sort out went flying.” Sophia put the trombone case down and inspected the cases. She felt a thrill rush through her. “I was beginning to think these would never arrive.”

“Same here. I need to have a word with those people.” Allan grumbled. “They’re starting to slack. It’s like they’re trying to torment me.”

Sophia didn’t respond. She knew they were struggling financially a little, but things seemed to be doing well lately. It always did whenever the London Season was in full flow. Everyone wanted music to play for dinner parties or massive balls. Their music shop was the go-to place, and Sophia loved the bustle.

There hadn’t been much bustle in the last week, but it had been raining. Sophia expected it to pick up, especially when they realized new instruments had come in.

She sat on the floor and reached for a violin case. One of her favorite instruments. If it was played incorrectly, it sounded like cats having a fight, but played well and it was a beautiful sound. Sophia could listen to it all day and still want more. Her father had played the violin as a professional musician when Sophia was a little girl. She still remembered sitting in the room while Allan played, just watching his fingers dance across the strings while giving out such delightful music. It was one of her favorite memories.

That hadn’t happened for some years now. Not since Allan’s hands became so gnarled and swollen that he couldn’t play anymore. It was a shame.

Sophia opened the case. The violin was gorgeous, a beautiful red wood that seemed to shine under the candlelight behind her. Sophia grinned as she carefully lifted the instrument out.
“I’ll say this, Father: even though they take their time sending us what we ask for, these are beautiful.” She took a sniff and pulled back with a grimace. “I just wish the violins didn’t smell of dead animals.”

Allan chuckled.

“Well, the strings are made from sheep guts. It’s going to take a while for the smell to go. Give it a couple of days and it’ll smell like the shop.”

Sophia hoped that. That was her only complaint of the violin. The strings were called cat-guts, but they were made of the guts of a dead animal, usually a sheep. Sophia had gone to watch how they were made when she was twelve, and the smell had lingered on her clothes for a long time afterwards.

“Why can’t they put a nice smell on it?” She complained, putting the violin back into its case, stroking a finger down the smooth wood before closing the lid. “That would make it more attractive.”

“Sophia, you know where we live. A nice smell never gets rid of a bad one. In any case, it would ruin the violin if they dipped it in something to smell nice. The strings would get warped.”

Sophie knew that. She had heard about the history of the violin over the years from her father and his former professional friends, and wished it wasn’t a case of using the most disgusting things they could find to create something so beautiful.

“They just need to find a different way to get violin strings.” She grumbled.

Allan laughed. He was still massaging his knuckles, flexing his hands.

“I’d like to see you find a different way. If you want to go foraging through the insides of dead animals.”

“Father!”

Allan’s eyes twinkled. It wasn’t often that Sophia saw that look, the one of merriment. That had faded over time. First when Sophia’s mother had died, then when his arthritis got so bad that Allan couldn’t play anymore, and now with his other daughter ill and confined to her bed. Sophia missed the old Allan Cluett, the one who was happy being a musician and providing for his family by doing something that he loved.

The music shop was the next best thing, and Allan still got noticed on occasion by his customers and former colleagues, but Sophia knew Allan missed playing. He taught on the side, leaving Sophia mostly in charge, and that brought in a little more money, but it wasn’t much. Their savings were keeping them afloat, although Sophia didn’t know how much longer for, not with her sister needing frequent doctor’s visits. Those were expensive.

It wasn’t so bad right now. Allan hadn’t warned Sophia to watch what she spent, which wasn’t much. And he didn’t seem flustered over money, so they couldn’t be that hard-off, could they?
Sophia spied a smaller, square box, and drew it towards her. This was a made-to-specification instrument. The son of the Earl of Lincoln wanted to play the clarinet so he could impress a girl he wanted to marry. Being someone who was clumsy and not very ‘exciting’, in his mother’s words, Mark Cowley wanted to learn something that could show the girl he had taken a fancy to that he was interesting and could do something.

Sophia wasn’t sure about that after hearing Cowley attempt to play in the shop. But her father was willing to teach him once the clarinet came in. That would be a decent payment for them.

Sophia opened the case and gasped.

“Oh, my. This is beautiful.”

“Well, a beautiful instrument for an eager pupil.” Allan declared. “He’s got a lot to learn, so it needed to be for his specifications.”

“I can tell.” Sophia picked up one of the center parts of the instrument and inspected it. “They’ve etched the letters of the keys into the side. I’ve never seen that done before.”
“As you very well know, the nobility are particular. Things have to be made easier so they can get to the top quicker.” Allan flexed his fingers. “Could you check that it works? I don’t want to give them a faulty instrument.”

This was one of the favorite parts of the job. Sophia got to play the instruments to make sure it worked. She could play practically anything, from the piano to the trombone, the violin to the flute. It was fun, and Sophia enjoyed this bit.

She put the clarinet together and selected one of the single reeds from the shop collection. Once it was in place, Sophia blew a C-note. It sounded gorgeous. Certainly worth the wait. Master Cowley was going to love this.

“That’s lovely.” Allan nodded approvingly. “Play a tune on it.”

Sophia couldn’t deny him something like that. She began to play a song she knew from memory. As she played, Allan stood and headed into the back of the shop. Sophia closed her eyes and carried on playing. This was one of the times she found her peace. Music was her life, and Sophia could wrap herself up in it. Everything was forgotten while she played, just how she wanted it.

If only she could do this for a living instead of playing other people’s instruments to make sure they worked. Sophia had a dream of being up in front of a huge crowd playing the violin or the piano and having the whole place captivated. But that was a far-flung dream. Women could perform, but they were usually singers and actresses. A female musician, on the other hand, just wasn’t done.

Sophia wished it was. It was all she wanted.

The final note finished and Sophia lowered the clarinet, her eyes still closed. She didn’t want to open them, come back to reality. Her fantasy place was much preferable. Then she jumped, her eyes flying open as she heard someone clapping.

“Beautiful. Just beautiful.”

There was a man standing in the shop, applauding her. His broad face was split in a beaming smile.

“That was beautiful playing, miss.”

“I…” Sophia blushed, suddenly feeling very exposed. “Thank you, kind sir. Forgive me, I didn’t see you there.”

“If you had, you would have stopped playing.” He said jovially.

He was a member of Society, no doubt about it. The expensive cut of his clothes told Sophia everything. It was mostly women who came into the shop looking for music, but sometimes men also came in, often to buy things for their wives. Sophia was used to interacting with the upper-classes, but she was still a little intimidated. Most of their customers were lovely people. It was just knowing there was a visible barrier between them that reminded Sophia of who she was that had her withdrawing.

“Where did you learn to play?” The man asked. “You must have had a talented teacher.”

Sophia beamed with pride.

“My father. He was a professional musician.”

“I see.” His eyes were twinkling. “You’ve certainly got a talent.”

Sophia didn’t know what to say. She was applauded for her demonstration of an instrument and her wide knowledge of music and the composers, but that was as far as it went. The few times she had mentioned about wanting to play for money, Sophia was scoffed. It wasn’t something she confessed much lately, if at all.

She would prove everyone wrong. If only she was given a chance.

“Why did you stop, Sophia?” Allan was coming back into the front of the shop. “I was…” Then he saw the gentleman, and Allan’s eyes widened. “Warwick!”

“My God! Allan Cluett!” Warwick strode forward and shook Allan’s hand so hard Allan’s whole arm moved. “I should have guessed it was you!”

“My name over the shop didn’t give you a clue?” Allan laughed.

“Not really. It’s been a few years since you retired.” Warwick indicated Sophia. “Now I understand why your daughter is such a beautiful musician. She’s got a good teacher.”
Allan puffed out his chest.

“Sophia loves to learn. You can’t stop true talent.”

“Certainly not.” Warwick agreed. “Think you can help me? I need some help choosing some music. My wife plays the piano and I want to give her something for her birthday. Just to keep her quiet while I’m working.”

Sophia rolled her eyes. Allan shot her a warning glance before turning back to Warwick with his usual shop-owner smile.

“Right this way. I’ll see what we can find. You are spoiled for choice, Warwick.”

That was when Sophia heard a ringing from upstairs. It had been very quiet all morning, so Sophia had almost forgotten what that sounded like. Her sister had woken up. Allan paused, looking torn. Sophia waved him away as she started to dismantle the clarinet.

“I’ll go, Father. You look after Lord Warwick.”

#

Sophia headed up the stairs as the bell rang again. Ever since Rachel had taken ill and was confined to her bed, Allan had given her a little bell to ring if she needed anything. They would be at work downstairs, so not far away, but neither Allan nor Sophia could hover around for her every need. It had taken a while for Rachel to get used to the bell, not wanting to rely on anyone or bother them.

At eighteen years of age, and she loved her independence. Having it taken away because she was very unwell had hit Rachel harder than the illness.

And Sophia wasn’t even sure what was wrong with her younger sister. Rachel had been strong and healthy until she collapsed the year before. The doctor said she needed to rest, but that seemed to have made things worse. Now Rachel was still stuck in bed, looking worse than before. Sophia felt pained every time she saw her sister. She didn’t want to lose her as well, not after losing their mother.

Sophia put her head around the door. Rachel had managed to sit up in bed, coughing hard. She held up the water jug in her hand.

“Sophia…I need some water.”

“Of course.” Sophia hurried in and took the jug. “Give me a moment.”

Hurrying back downstairs and out the back, Sophia filled the jug from the huge bucket of water she had collected from the pump in the street that morning. It was already half-empty. She carried the jug back upstairs and poured out a glass for her sister. Rachel gulped the water down fast, gasping as she lowered the glass.

“That’s better. Forgive me for bothering you, Sophia, but…”

“Don’t be silly. You know I’ll always help.” Sophia put the jug down and sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re very thirsty today, aren’t you?”

“My mouth is just so dry.” Rachel made a face. “I wish I was able to eat something.”
“I know. Here, let me.”

Sophia took the glass from her sister’s fingers and put it to one side. Then she adjusted the pillows, allowing Rachel to lean back without bashing her head on the wooden headboard or the wall.

“I heard you playing downstairs.” Rachel smiled. “That was a beautiful tune.”

“Thank you. But how did you know it was me?”

Rachel laughed.

“I know when you’re playing, Sophia. No one compares to you.”

Sophia blushed, adjusting the blankets around her sister.

“You flatter me too much, Rachel.”

“Because it’s true,” Rachel said fervently. “You’re such a beautiful player. It’s just a shame that you can’t perform as you want.”

“I can perform.”

Sophia had played for small soirees before, but that had been as background noise. And she didn’t get paid, she was simply asked to do it because the hostess didn’t want to pay extra for a musician, but she wanted music during the evening. Sophia’s fingers had hurt after four hours of constant playing and she had struggling to keep going by the end of the night. Her fingers had been curled for days afterwards. The first time this happened, Sophia had told herself it was worth it and someone would notice how good she was. But after the sixth time of doing it, Sophia had had enough. She had broached the subject of being paid with the hostess at the time, the Marchioness of Staffordshire, and the woman had been horrified at the thought of paying a female for her music playing.

Needless to say, Sophia hadn’t been asked to do it since.

She picked at the thread on the bedsheet.

“I wish it wasn’t that way, though. It’s just not fair. Father could be paid hundreds on the right day with the right client. But when I try and do the same, I’m ridiculed and told to get lost.”

Rachel laid her cold hand over Sophia’s.

“Life never is fair, Sophia.” She coughed again, her breathing rattling. “I’ve learned that the hard way.”

Sophia knew that all too well. Rachel had been healthy as a girl, but as a young woman it was something else. And Rachel hated it. Sophia did as well. She wanted her vibrant younger sister back. Even at her young age, Rachel had a sensible head on her shoulders.

“If there was ever a chance for me to become a professional musician, I would take it.” Sophia declared. “No question.”

“I know you would.” Rachel sighed. “But even if you managed that, you would have to give it all up eventually.”

“I would never give it all up, Rachel! It’s my dream!”

“You know why you would have to give it up.” Rachel shook her head. “Your husband wouldn’t want you earning from your performances.”

Sophia made a face. Her husband. When Sophia married – if she married – she would cease to exist. If she did become a professional musician, her payments would go to her husband. He would benefit from it all, while Sophia would have nothing. That was Society rules, even those who weren’t in the upper-classes. That’s what Sophia hated. She wasn’t losing her livelihood to anyone, not even the man she married.

“Maybe I won’t marry. Maybe I’ll stay a spinster for the rest of my life.”

Rachel raised her eyebrows.

“Do you really think you could do that?”

“Of course. I don’t see how any man could make me decide they’re worth giving up my love of music.”

Aside from her father and sister and one dear friend, Sophia didn’t feel love for anyone. Not romantic love, anyway. She was a practical person and knew, even with her father’s past profession, that she wasn’t a desirable match as there wouldn’t be much money for a dowry. Sophia was prepared to be alone for the rest of her life.

As long as she had music, she would be fine.

“Nobody?” Rachel’s mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile. “Not even Matthew McGovern?”

Sophia groaned.

“You know perfectly well that I don’t care for him at all.”

“He does love you.”

“I don’t think he does.” Sophia scowled. “He knows I don’t love him, but he just keeps persisting. The man is downright stubborn.”

Rachel giggled.

“Takes a stubborn mule to know a stubborn mule.”

Sophia swatted her sister’s leg, which resulted in Rachel laughing more. Then her laugh turned into a couch, which had Sophia reaching for the water jug. Another glass of water had Rachel calming down, and she settled back against the lopsided pillows. Rachel wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her nightdress.

“You know Father wants you to keep your love of music, and so do I. But Society dictates what women can and can’t do, from the bottom of the ladder right up to Royalty. And you will have to follow it just like everyone else.”

Sophia groaned. Rachel was right, as always. That was not fair.

“You shouldn’t be so level-headed when you’re in your sickbed.”

“I get a lot of time to think in here.” Rachel picked up a book from the bedside table and held it out. “Would you mind reading to me?”

Sophia couldn’t turn down something like that. Rachel knew she would do anything if she asked. Smiling, she took the book and opened up at the marked page.

Chapter Two

Guy stormed out of the public house and into the street, swiping his cane through the air. He narrowly missed two women walking past, swishing their skirts. They squealed and shied away from him. Guy held up his hand as an apology and watched as they gave him a nervous look before hurrying away. Then he turned away and swiped his cane around again, wishing he could hit something.

He was supposed to have been there. They were supposed to have confronted him. And the brigand had vanished. Just like he had for the last year.

They were getting nowhere. It was like someone was making them go round and round in circles.

“Guy?”

A fair-haired man dressed in dark blue was hurrying towards him, his cane and hat in his hands. Guy flung his arms up.

“This is all your fault, Josiah!” He growled.

“My fault?” Josiah Haddington, Marquess of Hastings, looked perplexed. “How is this my fault if I got bad information?”

“Because you got my hopes up that we were going to finally get him!” Guy barked. “Your information always seems to be wrong.”

“I can’t control what comes in, can I?”

Guy knew, deep down, that it wasn’t Josiah’s fault, but he wanted someone to blame. This man they were after he managed to elude them for months. He was in London, practically right under their noses, and they couldn’t find him. Guy was getting fed up with all the dead ends. A year on, and nothing to show for it.

“If he was in there, but under a different name, we’re not going to find him right away.” Josiah insisted. “But he’ll slip up eventually. They always do in the end.”

“I hope so.” Guy snorted. “This last year is not going to be for nothing.”

He had vowed to find the man responsible, and Guy didn’t break his promises. But as the months went on and nothing from the man who was very good at disappearing into thin air, Guy was beginning to despair. They were never going to find him now, he was sure.

He should have said that this callous conman wasn’t permitted to be anywhere near his family.

But Harriet had insisted, and Guy always accommodated her. Now she was dead, and he was responsible for letting that man into their lives.

Guy wasn’t about to let the con artist get away from it all.

“Guy?”

Guy looked up. Josiah was watching him closely.

“What?”

“Don’t you think you need to take a step back and calm down?”

Guy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He advanced on the marquess, who didn’t back down as Guy practically went nose-to-nose with him.

“Calm down?” He snapped. “Did you just tell me to calm down? After what that cad did?”

Josiah barely batted an eyelid.

“I didn’t mean like that, but you’re not going to get anywhere with your anger as it is.” His tone was calm. “People aren’t going to talk to you when you’re this abrasive.”

“After everything that’s happened, I think I’m entitled to be angry.”

“And how is being driven by your anger going to help Harriet?”

Guy flinched. Josiah had that ability to make him feel chastised.

“It’s all I’ve got, Josiah. You know that.”

“I do know that, but people won’t give you what you need if you storm around a public house calling everyone liars when you don’t like the answer. You’re lucky we got anyone to talk at all.”

He was right. Guy knew he was. The two of them had been close friends since they were ten years old, and they had got into a lot of things together. Josiah had been a rather irreverent child. But as they grew into young man, both now approaching thirty, Josiah had suddenly changed. Certainly in the last two years, he had grown up. The man who now stood before Guy was a different person, one who was level-headed, careful and thought things through. It felt like their personalities had changed over the last couple of years.

Guy slumped. He rubbed his hand over his face and tapped his cane on the stone slabs.
“God, I hate this.” He grumbled. “I wish he would come forward and publicly admit what he did. Or, at least, admit it to me.”

“He won’t come forward because Duncan Stay is a coward. He took what he wanted and left.”
Guy knew all about that. He growled.

“He’ll be lucky that I don’t put him in a grave.”

Josiah shook his head.

“Don’t talk like that. Just take a deep breath and let it out slowly. You’re causing a scene.”

It was then that Guy realized people were staring at him. The public house was in the middle of Brentford with people from factories and the lower classes milling around them. Stay was someone who kept to places that he could blend in with whenever he was in trouble. The problem was, he could blend in with the upper classes as well. Something Guy had learned the hard way.

Having a duke throwing a fit in the middle of the street would certainly be something to brighten up their day. A gossiping point. Guy didn’t want to give them more ammunition.
He did as Josiah suggested. He took a deep breath, and then breathed out slowly. It did calm him a little. Not much, but enough that the angry fog lifted enough so he could think more clearly. Another breath, and it was completely lifted away. Guy could feel it threatening to come back and consume him, and he ignored it. Now was not the time to make a show for everyone else.

“Thank you.” He said through gritted teeth.

Josiah smirked.

“Glad that I came along now?”

“Just about.” Guy frowned. “I’m not too keen on your way of calming me, though. Don’t ever chastise me in the street again.”

“Then don’t start making a scene in the street. You don’t want this getting back to your mother, do you?” Josiah brought out his pocket watch and checked it. “Right, I need to go. I said to Miles and Madeleine that I would take them to the park after lunch. You heading home now?”

“In a while. Seeing as I’m here, I might as well get some music for Mother.” Guy nodded down the street. “I saw a music shop just around the corner. Mother’s been going on about some music Mozart composed and she wants it.”

“I didn’t realize Mozart composed harp music.”

“Neither did I, but Mother’s insistent.” Guy shrugged. “I’ll see what I can find. Humor her.”
Josiah chuckled.

“Rather you than me.” He clapped his hand on Guy’s shoulder. “Take care. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Guy watched Josiah walk away, crossing the street and heading into Syon Park. He didn’t live too far away, so it was just a stone’s throw away for him. The children wouldn’t be kept waiting long. Guy signalled at his driver as he climbed into the carriage.

“There’s a place around the corner I want to stop at, Bates. Cluett’s Music Shop.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Guy settled back as the carriage set off, trundling over the cobbles. He found himself shaking his head as he kept thinking about Josiah. The man hadn’t paid much attention to his eight-year-old twins, who were in the care of his parents since Josiah’s sister and her husband died of tuberculosis when the children were three. But in the last two years, something had changed. Before, Josiah was a bit of a rake, drinking and flirting to the point of embarrassment. Now that had completely stopped, and Josiah was more selective in where he went. He concentrated a lot on his niece and nephew, who seemed to be delighted at his attention.

Guy had wondered about his change of heart, until he saw the new governess. Dinah Mead was from a simple country family, but she was very bright and very pretty. The children loved her, and Guy had seen the way his friend looked at Dinah. Somehow, this quiet country mouse had had an effect on the uncle as well as the charges in her care. Guy had teased Josiah about it in the past, which had resulted in his friend going bright red and swiftly changing the subject.

Guy hadn’t spoken much to Dinah, but he was sure she was something special if she could get a man like Josiah Haddington straightening out just by smiling at him.

The carriage turned into the street where the shop was, and Guy sat forward. All he needed to do was go inside, ask for the music, and come back out again. From the look of it, the shop was small but it appeared to be packed with instruments and books inside. They had to have something useful. Guy didn’t have time to go around London for another music shop.

Then he stared. A young, petite woman had just stepped out of the shop, carrying two funny-shaped cases. The wind fluttered around her, blowing her hair across her face. She brushed it aside, tucking hair that color of dark auburn behind her ear. Guy couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was beautiful. She clearly didn’t wear any type of powder, her rosy cheeks natural, with perfectly formed cheekbones, a heart-shaped mouth and a slightly upturned nose. There was a smattering of freckles across her nose, but that didn’t seem to take anything away. If anything, it made her stand out.

Guy had certainly noticed. The woman stepped out into the street, holding both cases, and headed off down the street at a brisk, confident stride. She looked so comfortable in herself, nothing faltering in her walk. This girl knew exactly what she wanted in life. Guy liked that about someone, especially a woman.

The carriage still hadn’t stopped, and Guy had lost sight of her amongst the people milling on the pavement. Guy growled and pushed the door open, jumping out before the carriage had stopped, resulting in him stumbling and almost ending up flat on his face. Righting himself, Guy cleared his throat as he dusted himself down, trying to pretend he had meant to do that. But the woman was gone. He couldn’t see her red hair anywhere.

Who on earth was she? Guy had never seen her before, and he would have noticed someone like her. Whoever it was, she was a lover of music if those music cases were anything to go by.
Guy hadn’t paid much attention to women. Before Harriet’s death, he had been too busy keeping the estate going to think about marriage. And he was in mourning, so looking for a wife as his mother wanted him to was out of the question. But there was something about this woman, who did nothing except leave a shop, that had caught his attention.

If only he knew who she was. Guy knew he was going to be driven mad trying to figure out who this mysterious woman was.

“Sir?”

Guy jumped and spun around. A tall, slender man with graying hair had stepped out of the shop. He was watching Guy with a concerned expression. Guy blinked.

“Yes?”

“Are you all right? You catapulted out of the carriage so fast I thought you might have hurt yourself.”

“I…oh.” Guy cleared his throat. “I’m fine. I just mistimed the exit, that’s all. It’s…it’s been a while since I’ve been out.”

Not really the truth, but Guy’s mourning suit would cover it. From the sympathy in the older man’s eyes, he believed it.

“I understand, sir.”

Guy looked up at the shop, and then back at the man. Then he noticed the gnarled hands. The knuckles and fingers were swollen, and looked really sore. He felt a pang of sympathy. His grandfather, who had passed when Guy was only ten, had suffered from arthritis himself, and he had complained about it a lot. Guy didn’t want to imagine how painful it could be.
There was also something familiar about the man. Guy had seen him before, and it took a few moments to recognize him.

“You’re Allan Cluett, aren’t you? You played the violin at my father’s fiftieth birthday about ten years ago.”

“I am Allan Cluett.” Cluett smiled. “I’m pleased someone of your age can remember me. I haven’t played in a while. Not with hands like this.” He held up his hands. “Remind me again who your father is?”

“He was the Duke of Berkshire.” Guy swallowed. Even after all this time, it was still painful to discuss his father. “I now have the title.”

“I see.” Cluett’s smile faded and he gave Guy a small bow. “Well, my condolences for your father’s passing. I enjoyed performing for him. He was a good man.”

“Thank you.” Guy paused. “Would you be able to help me? I’m looking for some harp music.”
“Harp music? Oh?” Cluett straightened up with another smile. “I seem to remember your mother was a harpist. She was very enthusiastic about it.”

“Not very good?”

“She had a lot of talent and enthusiasm for the harp, which is a very difficult instrument to play. I had to admire her for that.” Cluett spread his hands. “One of the few instruments I couldn’t master myself.”

Guy chuckled.

“She has a lot of enthusiasm, certainly. Her playing is actually pretty good right now. But her knowledge of composers isn’t that great. She’s insistent that Mozart composed for the harp.”

“He didn’t. But you can transpose piano music for the harp. Maybe that’s what she meant.”
“Transpose?” Guy winced. “Forgive me, I don’t know much about music. I’m just an avid listener.”

“You and everyone else in Society.” Cluett chuckled. He beckoned Guy towards him. “Come on inside and we’ll see what we can find, Your Grace. I’ll show you what transposing is.”

#

The Earl of Lincoln’s family had been delighted that the clarinet had finally arrived. Sophia had also provided them with two new reeds and some music for free. She had protested about doing that, but Allan was insistent on doing it. They needed to have more custom coming in and referrals, which meant complimentary things. Sophia didn’t think they should give anything away for free, not when they were struggling.

But she couldn’t argue with her father.

After delivering the clarinet and then the trombone to factory owner Thomas Blackburn for his son to play, Sophia headed back to the shop. Her feet was killing her. She didn’t have the money to afford a carriage, so she had to walk all over London. Sometimes it took all day, but it was worth it. Especially when she got paid for it. Sophia just wasn’t so keen on the smoke hanging over London. It looked very nice and high-end in the wealthier parts of the city, but it didn’t clean the air. There was always a lingering smell of what people called smog. Sophia had got used to it, but it did like to linger.

Perhaps that was how Rachel had gotten sick. Healthy as she had been, she had walked all over the place. She would do the deliveries happily, but then she was struggling. Maybe she had breathed in a little too much smog and it had filled her lungs. It was possible to get ill from the amount of smoke in the air.

If only they could close the shop and move to the country. The air would be cleaner, and they wouldn’t have to worry about Rachel’s health once it started getting better. Sophia had made a promise to herself that one day, when she was a professional musician, she would save up to buy a house in the country. Then she could have Rachel living there and getting better.
But that was a long way off, and Sophia was scared that she would end up saving for something that Rachel didn’t need anymore, not when she was in a pauper’s grave.

Sophia got back to the shop and settled into the back along with some manuscript paper and a pen and a pot of ink. Another one of her passions was composing. Allan had composed most of his music, which he was praised highly for. He had taught Sophia how to compose, what notes went with what and how to put it all together. Sophia had composed a lot of music over the years, which was now in a folder under her bed. There wasn’t a chance when she could show them off to people except in the shop, and Sophia didn’t get paid for that.

It didn’t stop her, however, and this time Sophia focused on a piece for flute. The flute was simple to write for, and it simply flowed from the pen. A sad piece, one that had tears springing up in Sophia’s eyes. She had wanted a more jolly piece, but that hadn’t happened. This one, even sorrowful in tone, was a beautiful piece.

She managed to get it down as a rough draft before she reached for a flute case. As long as she took care of the instruments, she could use them whenever she worked. Sophia put the flute together and tried a few lines. It sounded good, but something wasn’t quite right. Was it not in the right key? Was the tempo too fast? Sophia changed the tempo to something a little slower, and that seemed to work. But it still needed something changing. Maybe start a third lower. Put a flat note in somewhere.

She put the flute aside and reached for her quill. Only to drop it suddenly on the paper when she heard a voice suddenly behind her.

“I hope that’s not the finished product.”

Sophia spun around, pressing a hand to her chest as her heart raced. She groaned. A tall, handsome young man with fair hair was standing by the stairs up to her family’s rooms, his hat in hand. Dressed smartly in a clean suit, the man had clearly come by from work. His hair was neatly brushed down, showing off a side-parting, and he had a thin moustache on his top lip. A put-together person, and Sophia had to admit that he did know how to dress well. But there was no flutterings in her belly. Just a knot forming.

“What are you doing here, Matthew?”

“What else?” Matthew McGovern gave her a smile. “I came to see you.”

“You mean to bother me again.” Sophia shot back. “Just go away.”

Matthew sighed.

“Come on, Sophia…”

“No, Matthew, no.” Sophia swiped a hand through the air. “I’m not going through this again. I’ve told you that before. I don’t care that you need to find a wife or you’ll be disinherited yourself, but that’s not going to be me.”

“Why not? We grew up together.”

“That doesn’t make it a requirement to be matched to someone.” Sophia sighed. “You just won’t listen. What part of what I say don’t you hear?”

Matthew McGovern had been pestering her for the best part of a year, asking to court her or take her to the theater. Allan had tried to persuade Sophia, but she outright refused. She didn’t like Matthew, not one bit. She still remembered the boy from her childhood who tormented her. Sophia had come home crying many times because he had twisted her arm a little too hard, and then smirked as he apologized to her. Now he was expecting Sophia to forget all that and go out with him to watch a play? Not a chance.

“I just want to take you out.” Matthew protested. “You barely got out anymore, and I know your father wants you to have a life outside of the shop.”

“I do have a lift outside of the shop.” Sophia replied hotly. “But you’re not part of it. And never will be.”

Putting the flute aside, Sophia went over to the violin lying on the back bench. Her father had been putting new strings on it, and he was now nowhere to be seen. With the shop as chilly as it was, the strings were going to get out of tune. Sophia checked the strings again, finding them in tune, and started to put it away in its case.

“That behaviour of yours is never going to get you anywhere, Sophia.” Matthew said.
Sophia gritted her teeth. She hated being spoken to like she was a little girl. She swung around.

“My behaviour? What about yours? You seem intent on bothering me. And don’t bother asking me again, because you know the answer is going to be no.”

Every other time Matthew came into the shop, it was to ask Sophia to marry him. Sophia had been too stunned to answer the first time, but she had firmly turned him down the next time he came in talking about a date for the wedding. She had pointed out a stunned silence didn’t mean it was a yes, and had sent Matthew away with his tail between his legs. He knew her response, so why he kept coming back, Sophia had no idea.

Matthew spread his hands.

“You’re going to have to give in one day.”

“No, I don’t.” Sophia reached for the bow. There was a circular orange block of rosin next to it, and Sophia began to rub it along the hairs of the bow. “And if I do ever consider marriage, it won’t be to you. Why do you keep persisting?”

“Because I love you, Sophia. You know that.”

Sophia shook her head. She didn’t think anyone could be anymore ludicrous than Matthew McGovern. For someone who worked for a lawyer’s office, he was very stupid.

“You don’t love me, Matthew. If you did, you wouldn’t bother me, or tell me that I would have to give up my music when we marry. Because you know full well that is not an option for me.”
“You can still play. I don’t have a problem with you playing music.”

Sophia snorted.

“But I want to earn a living off my music. And if I marry, my earnings would go straight to you. That means I would be playing for free again, and that’s just as good as giving up. Plus, you hate the fact that I can play the piano better than you. No one shows you up. I won’t do it.” She put the rosin down and started to loosen the hairs with the screw at the base of the bow. “Go away, Matthew.”

Normally, if she kept her back to him long enough, Matthew would leave. But this time he didn’t. Instead, Sophia heard footsteps coming towards her and Matthew put his hand on her shoulder, tugging to pull her around. Sophia spun around and lashed out, the bow hitting Matthew in the face. Matthew cried out and stumbled back, clutching at his face.

Sophia almost burst out laughing. She hadn’t hit him that hard, but the bow hairs were coated in rosin, which left a lot of white dust behind. Now Matthew’s black jacket was sprinkled with rosin, some of it smudged on his face. And the look of outrage on his face was almost comical. Sophia gestured with the bow at him again.

“I said go away, Matthew. Unless you wanted to be covered in rosin. I can happily oblige. That stuff is very difficult to shift if you get it on cloth.”

Matthew looked like he wanted to argue, his face going bright red under the dust. But he took a deep breath and swallowed, his jaw tightening. He adjusted his jacket and attempted to brush the rosin away, but it simply moved. It didn’t go away.

“I’ll be back later in the week.” Matthew said stiffly. “I hope you’ve changed your mind when I return.”

“You know I will never change my mind.” Sophia pointed at the door with the bow. “Get out.”
With one last look at her, Matthew turned and walked away, the door to the shop slamming shut behind him. Sophia put the bow down and dusted the rosin off her sleeves. Then she realized that her hands were shaking.

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“A Love Song for the Duke” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Sophia Cluett’s great passion for music adds a bit of light to growing up without a mother, the sickness that plagues her younger sister and her father’s poorly performing business. Her talent and great prospect of becoming a successful musician are about to go to waste though when her father decides to marry her off to someone she despises to financially secure the family. Sophia feels trapped in an undesirable future, until she meets the handsome Duke of Berkshire by chance and under the false identity of a high society member. Apart from making her heart flutter, could he also be the solution to all her problems?

Guy Bastable, the Duke of Berkshire, has mourned for a long time. Nothing can soothe his passion for revenge on the man who left his sister to die. At least that’s the case until he saves a young woman from a collision and realizes that there’s something more to live for; an extraordinary lady that is nothing like any other woman he’s met before. The more time he spends with the charming Sophia, the more his vengeance and pain give place to other, deeper feelings. Could she be the salvation he has been looking for?

Sophia’s and Guy’s growing love might be undeniable, but it’s also based on a tale of lies that Sophia will struggle to free herself from. Through their connection, Sophia will discover the greatest truth of all in the midst of her lies, but nothing guarantees that her feelings will be believed. This time it’s not her future or financial security she is worried about losing, but something much more important. Will love manage to overcome the reckless lies and the class barriers or is this romance doomed right from its dishonest start?

“A Love Song for the Duke” is a historical romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

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