LOVELY IS THE SUN, SPLENDID IS THE STORM TO COME. The day was bright, almost bliding his eyes, but a soft palm covered it for him, making him focus on the book he had on his hands. The brown hair strands would get on his face, all around, on his loosen white lomg sleeved shirt, while his suit got dirt by the green field filled with daisies.

"For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn?" Mercy read out loud, turning the book page.

"That's an interesting passage" Francesca Bridgerton snuggled against his chest, her arm across his body, as they both lied on the grass.

"You do observe people a lot." He teased and she smiled. "I believe Jane Austen wrote this about you, Francesca."

"So do you." She tapped the tip of his tongue mocking. "And I must admit, it's much more fun to stare at them with you."

"I could say the same thing." He looked at her, his smile just as warm as the sunlight.

This. That moment was heaven. Being there, away from the crowds, reading a book, surrounded by flowers, in a sunny day, with Francesca Bridgerton resting her head on his chest, lied on the grass, was the perfect day, the best day he could ask for.

There was something magical in the silence she made, or how she only listened and did not say a word unless she desired to. No one woukd force her to speak, and no one would say a thing if she not wished to.

"Should I continue?" He asked.

"Can we make a pause?" She muttered. "It's quiet."

"Of course." He rest the book next to him, his arm resting on her back, as the two closed their eyes and only enhoyed the sound of the trees and leaves shaking by the breeze.

Silence was their guilty pleasure. A life away from it all, how wonderful it could be.

Francesca recalled her brother Benedict isolating from  society to live with Bellatrix at a cottage, perphaps he was right, that was the best sort of like she could wish for.

If she could, at that instant, make a choice, she would turn her back to the city and never return.

Maybe, she could even run away with him. That is, if he wanted to.

Sneaking out of her home, lying to her family and employees that she was meeting ladies of the ton was one thing, but running away from everything was completely another.

Besides, she didn't know if he would accept her offer. After all, a musician needed a crowd, not a dead silent forest.

No, for now she would only enjoy his presence.

They spent some minuted there, Mercy sofyly brushing her hair with his fingers, while she listened to her heartbeat, now slow and comfortable. Sometimes she'd look up, back at him, and share another kiss, like a sugar treat, as they'd stare into one another's eyes without saying a single word with so much meaning.

If this was a dream, neither Mercy or Francesca wished to wake up.

But they had to.

He grabbed the old watch from his pocket, gasped at thr sight of time, so slippery and fast.

"Francesca it has been almost two hours now." He mumbled to her, as their paradise disappeared. "Your family will start to worry"

"Oh noo" She gripped onto him, begging to stay. "Just a few more minutes."

"Fran, it's risky." He held her so carefully he thought she would break. "Your servants will be asking about you-"

"I don't want to go."

"Neither do I." Mercy sighed. "But it's necessary."

They have been in these escapes for two weeks now, hiding and appearing in diverse locations, such as this. To her familt, Francesca had become a social butterfly that visited friends almost every afternoon, to Miss Fickle, Mercy was booked with appointments at the orphanage.

They thought those were little white lies they could tell the world while pretending this was the life they would live forever. It couldn't hurt, they expected, as this was harmless daydreaming.

Of course, now and then things would...heat up, in some sort of way, but rarely Mercy brought Francesca to his residenve, hence it would be too risky for someone to spot them. Overall, they would sgare wach other's presence, sneak a few kisses, and that was more than enough.

"Francesca, come on, get up."

"You'll have to make me" She teased.

He chuckled, getting up from the ground and standing his hand to her. She took it, but, at the right moment before she could stand, she pulled him to the ground, making Mercy fall above her.

Her laugh was like the gracius clap of bids' winds in the sky. Her hair scattered all over the flowers, while he could look for just beneath him.

"Miss Bridgerton" He joked in a stern tone. "Another one of your tricks...what a mean lady you are."

"I'm just more witty than you" She teased, cupping his cheeks. "Do not ever underestimate my shy façade for ignorance."

"Certainly not." Mercy grinned, touching his lips against hers, melting to the contact, he could stay in that morning sun with her forever and ever. "Now, will you let me scort you home?" She shook her head. "The brat noble woman strikes again." She giggled. "What would you like this time?"

"What would you like, Mercy?" She smirked.

Mercy sniffed, almost in disbelief with that woman's audacity. If only people knew Francesca's mind and soul as he did...few would believe him. She was and enigma, delightful and volatile to the touch, a pleasure to decipher.

He leaned in closer, whispering against her ear. "I can think of a few things." His undertone increased as his hands caressed her curves. "Although I believe it would be too obscene to the poor flowers."

"I suppose it would."She tried to supprass a laugh, as when he was off guard, she dropped and rolled over him  so she was on top. Mercy bursted laughing, holding her hips as Francesca dropped kisses all over his face. "But I mean flowers don't speak, do they?"

"Somebody help me, this lady will ruin me!" He joked outloud as she covered her mouth. "Mphmh!" She took off her hand and looked deeply into his eyes for one mere second, imagining a future in them, waking up and staring at them, going to sleep and staring at them. She could live through those blue eyes. "I love you." Mercy suddenly said, making her cheeks blush.

Francesca blankly stared at him, with utter shock. She has never heard those 3 words said to her before, not except from a family member.

Violet had warned her, I love you wasn't simply a word to be said in vain, it hsd meaning, it had depth and she shouldn't waste it in vain. In fact, Francesca didn't know how it was like to love someone. She didn't know when was the right moment or time, didn't know how to say it.

So when Mercy said it out loud, so easily, she frozened into place, afraid. Did he really mean it? Did what she feel was in fact love? Was she even capable to feel it?

Overthinking mind of hers...how terrible it could be, way to ruin such a beautifup sunny day...

Mercy, realizing she didn't say it back, felt his heart weight in his chest. "I-I'm sorry, it just...it slipped, I didn't mean-"

It just made it all worse. Did he mean it or not? Why would say something if he didn't mean it?

"I should probably go home." He visualized the exact moment she build her walls again, getting up from his lap, backing up and adjusting the dress.

Mercy cursed to himself, sighing. "Francesca, wait." He stood up, walking towards her. "It was not my intention to embarrass you..." It was even worse to explain, he wasn't such a man of words, he was a man of actions, not of poems. "I know we aren't in a...relationship... but I'd rather be honest" He declared. "I am...completely, utterly, and madly in love with you." He confessed, she remained still at the same place. "I count the seconds, the minutes to see you. To catch a glimpse of your smile or stand in silence by your side." He gulped nervous, lalms sweating. "I know I'm not worthy. I am just a poor man, who doesn't even have a grave to be buried in, but I...I want you. I think I might need you, actually." He gestured with his hands, but ended up even more nervous and agitated. "All my life I've avoided the spotlight, I've played piano as a spirit, not to be seen but heard...but you saw me. Worse, you saw through me. And that was the most horrid and beautiful thing that has ever occured me." Mercy explained. "So yes, I am just a man, a man ridiculously in love with you, even if love is an overused word, even if I expressed that so many times only through songs instead...I need to say it." He tried to appriach her, but failed to hold her hands, he was still so nervous, it was worse than his first time playing at an event. "Francesca Bridgerton." He pronounced, as she shyly raised her gaze to him. "You're my heart's melody...I am captive of your notes, so effortlessly charming, but so out of touch, as I yearn, starve, trying to reproduce them, but truth is, no sound could ever compare to yours, hence this is the harmony I've been chasing for so long to create, so you have it...my heart, my soul, they're already yours since the moment I've met you."

Was this moment even real? The flowers' petals were floating in air, chests combusting against the fresh breeze of that day. No soul could bare witness that moment of tension, wherw Mercy Reeves stood there, as a soldier waiting for a white flag in the horizon, for the war to be over, as Francesca Bridgerton stares back at him, eyes widen, completely in silence, as dead man in the trenches.

Those were the most torturous seconds of Mercy Reeves' life.

She lowered her head, completely overwhelmed, shivering, unable to speak, as his heart shattered in pieces. Were his most despicable thoughts correct? Was he just a plaything, a passtime to that woman? A new toy she'd throw away once she married to her real true love?

"Nevermind."He shook his head. "Come, I'll take you back home."

...

"Blue, or maybe purple?" Hyacinth raised two dresses to her nonchalant sister.

Francesca was sitting by a chair at the corner, a cold tea cup in her hands, as she stared blankly at the window. She couldn't sleep last night, she could barely mutter a word to her family and everyone accepted it as something common, of her quiet character.

Truth is, deep inside, she was screaming.

Now she was there, stuck in her room wuth Hyacinth, who she shared with, while her sister chased dress after dress for an occasion she didn't even know what for.

He was so sweet, so endearing, and she said nothing, nothing.

There was anger, sadness, frustration, all inside her, as a storm waiting to crash all over her.

"Francesca!" Hyancinth called again, this time her sister turned her head. "So, have you decided?" She didn't reply. "You must choose, the soireé is tonight!" She looked clueless at her sister. "Have you forgotten?" Francesca nodded. "Oh God." She sighed. "The Cowpers soireé, it is tonight!"

Francesca died inside. The Cowpers soireé, the same one Mercy would play at. It would be her doom.

"Which color?" Hyacinth asked again.

"Were we actually invited?" Francesca mumbled.

"All London was invited, come, mama is downstairs waiting!"

...

"Classy!" William mocked as he slapped his friend's back and walked next to him. "The main musician!" He repeated over and over. "The main musician my friends!" He shouted proud.

His wife Alice smiled at the corner, watching as Mercy tied the bow tie around his neck. Dark suit but with beige details matching the shirt he wore. He looked like a true prince.

"You look very elegant, Mercy." Alice said content. "Careful, Lady Whistledown might write about you."

"I doubt it." Mercy finished adusting the bow tie, and waved the dust off his shoulders. "She seems much busier flattering the Earl of Surrey and escaping the Queen's eye."

"True, it hasn't been easy for our little gossiper."

Mercy stared at his reflection in the mirror, while the couple complimented, he felt nothing more than a mediocre man, ugly and unseen. If he couldn't be loved by Francesca, seen by her, then what was the use of it all? Everything seemed so pointless, so useless.

"He doesn't seem well" Alice whispered to her husband. "You should check on him. I'll leave you to it." William nodded as she exited the room to give the two some privacy.

The Mondrich stared at the back of his friend turned to his, tense but also weak, his eyes lost in the mirror glass, as he appriached him from behind.

"Anxious?" He asked.

"...No. Not at all...merely tedious." Mercy replied with not much effort.

"Tedious?" William scoffed. "You'll play the whole night and gain a fortune, what is to be bored about that?" He didn't reply. "What is the matter, my friend? Tell me."

Mercy closed his fists, trying to avoid the stress of his mind. He did not wish to throw his burden onto others, it wasn't right. He would deal with this on his own, as he has always done.

"Nothing."

"You're an awful liar, tell me." William let an arm around his shoulder, a sthey stared at thei reflection in the mirror. His friend seemed awfully weak next to him with that sad expression on his eyes. "Come on, I won't leave if you don't."

Mercy sighed, trying to go against William was as if swimming through a tsunami. The man was incredibly stubborn and he knew he wouldn't give up so easily.

"If you love someone..."He tried to speak. "...if say you love a woman and she does not say the same...should you be concerned over the matter?"

William blinked, in shock. "Are you in love?"

"Think of it as a hipothetical situation, please."

"Oh God, you are in love." He gasped. "Who is it-"

"Will."

"Fine, I..uh..." He scratched his nape, pondering about the question. "Have you been intimate, has she ever showd any sort of affection?" Mercy nodded. "Weird...well, naturally he should have responded."

"That is what I also question myself." Mercy pulled the tie again, as an automatic nervous gesture.

"Or maybe..."

"Maybe what?" He asked.

"It mostly happens with men but...couldn't  it be possible that this woman is...playing with your feelings?" Will suggested, and that made Mercy's heart ache. "I mean, maybe she is only having fun while-"

"She wouldn't do that." Mercy snapped back quickly, defensice. "She is not like that. My Fran- I mean, the woman, would never do that."

"I see..." Will realized it was no use arguing. "Well, then all I can say is to be patient. Perphaps she is only afraid."

"Yes...possibly, yes." Mercy tried yo convince himself. "It has to be that. It's possible, right?"

"Of course."

"Right..."Mercy ran his hands through his face, chuckling bitterly. "You don't have some bourbon with you, do you? I'd kill for a drink now."

William laughed. "Luckily, you're speaking to the right man." He walked over thr corner of the room, at a wardrobe, far on the back, he held up an old bourbon bottle. "Always ready for an emergency." He opened up the bottlre for his friend. "Careful, not too much, okay?"

Mercy took a huge gulp of the liquid, burning down his tongue as he exhaled alcohol when he finished it. William took the bottle from his hands and closed it.

"Alright, I think that is enough." He tilted his head to the side concerned. "This woman is really taking over your mind, isn't she?"

"Watch it, Will." Mercy advised. "If I die, she will be the cause." Mercy sniffed, looking outside the window where the carruage waited for them. "Do I look too drunk to play for these stupid nobles?"

"Nothing extraordinary for an artist." He joked. "Now enough, come, princess, your carriage awaits."

...

"I have so many options, of suitors, my father decided to throw a soireé so I can choose one." Cressida Cowper gloated hersrlf in an extravagant dress filled with feathers.

"Strange, if that were true, why haven't Lady Whistledown commented once on your achievement this season?" One of the ladies mocked.

Truth is, Cressida was no popular this season. She was, in fact, the wallflower, while Penelope Featherington managed ti arrange herself three possible suitors, wigh high status. The Lord Debling, Mr.Colin Bridgerton, and the favorite of the ton, Lord Stephen Surrey, previously named Bridgerton as well.

Jealousy was understatement for what thr Cowper girl felt, as she yearned to be free from her cage she called home, but no opportunity was thrown upon her. Now, she had to succeed in a soireé with strangers, which one of them would control each and every aspect of her life in the future.

What a shame and misfortune it was, in fact, to be her. But what is worse? To not be wanted by any, or to be wanted, and want, someone you can not possibly have?

Francesca Bridgerton had just entered the room, in a surprising lilac color that outstanded her again. Sparkler, incandescent, all eyes had turned to her.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to bring Francesca to the Cowpers event, mother?" Eloise questioned.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Violet responded confused.

"It is Cressida's event. It is clear as day the two do not get along, and as we know...Francesca manages to capture much attention." She observed worried.

"Don't be ridiculous, Eloise. There won't be any issue at all, you'll see."

"Let's hope for it."

Francesca Bridgerton already wanted to leave, actually, disappear if possible in that moment. But instead, her eyes chased in that sea of people, a single siren whose songs captured her soul.

Once he visualized his image across the room, all air in her lungs was suddenly over. So gorgeously hidden, discret yet elgeant, head low, walking fast, avoiding all the ladies that sighed over him. Few would know he was hers, only hers.

And she did not proclaim she was his.

How strange it was, to witness someone you care so deeply, so far away, not being abke to merely greet them without feeling the shame and the desire wash over you.

Forbiddeb affairs were meant to be that way, guilty pleasures that killed us until there were only ashes used to spread rumors.

Luckily there weren't rumors...for now.

Mercy startrd to play, unknown melodies that filled the room and made her involuntairly smile. So beautiful, so poetic  she was sure that man wasn't real, he couldn't be.

"Miss Bridgerton." An old woman voice spoke behind her. Supported in her cane, with a know it all smile was Lady Danbury. "Pleasure to see you."

"Oh, Lady Danbury." She bowed to her.

The duchess looked over at the musician. "Your instructor is reaching popularity since the first time he played for me." Francesca agreed, eyes stuck to his figure. "Already feels like a lifetime ago...does it not?" Francesca felt her eyes fill with tears. "I sincerely wish all the best for him. He has a good heart."

"Yes, he does." Francesca said softly.

"Success to his talent, wisdom to make choices, a house proper house to build a family, a wife to protect him" The last rolled out of her tongue almost as darts to the girl by her side. Strange how Lady Danbury seemed to know everything every single time, and yet never mention it. "He deserves it all."

"Certanly does." She gulped, still staring at the man she adored.

Lady Danbury side eyed her, almost as if she scanned through her soul a particular puzzle pice Francesca did not fit in. For a solid, hard second they stood there, listening to the piano, until another presence interfered.

"Miss Bridgerton, I wasn't aware you'd actually appear." The obnoxious host, Cressida Cowper had arrived, and Lady Danbury had instantly made a face to the woman.

"Miss Cowper." Francesca greeted nervous "It is a beautiful soireé. Congratulations." She gazed down.

Cressida chuckled at the girl's attitude, so shy, almost like a little mouse, and yet gaining all the attention in the room.

"I think Lord Surrey is stealing desserts over that table, I should inspect it." Lady Danbury excused herself quickly. "Have fun you both." It almost sounded like a warning.

Cressida Cowper's eyes ran through Francesca's figure before she could continue. "So, how are you, Miss Francesca? Your season is going well after being chosen by the queen, I suppose." Francesca only nodded. "I've heard much about Lord Samadani's interest in you, he's a marquess isn't he?" Francesca did the same again. "Extraordinary." Cressida said with utter jealousy. "You've very lucky to catch his eye."

"Thank you" Francesca mumbled.

"So when is the wedding?" Francesca looked at her surprised. "What? Has he not proposed yet?"

"I...I mean he has intentions, I suppose." The Bridgerton stuttered, fidgeting. She would gaze at Mercy playing from time to time.

"Suppose? Shouldn't that be clear by now? The season is almost over, you're supposed to be married by then." Cressida criticised. "Or...well...it will be a fair disappointment to the ton, especially the Queen, to not see her Sparkler married to the man she chose for her."

Francesca could feel an anchor on her shoulders as she reminded her of her duty. Waves crashed in her mind, thinking over and over, as she gazed over at Mercy again, so angelically olaying while people chattered. How much she wished for that saloon to be empty and for her to listen to him, just stand there and listen.

Cressida noticed her gaze at the musician, increasing her interest. "I am thinking about hiring Mr.Reeves to be my instructor, what do you think?"

Francesca choked on air, coughing. "What?"

"Don't be jealous." Cressida laughed. "I mean, we can always share a talented instructor. If I play pianoforte just as good as you, maybe more suitors will appear. Not that I don't have sone already, but I like to have a fair number of options at my disposal."

The thought bothered her. Francesca Bridgerton for once showed an unpleasant face to the comment. "I believe he's been too busy to teach another student. As you can see, his being hired by many to olay in events." She tried to overcome that awkward situation.

"I believe you are right." Cressida nodded, smirking. "He is quite pleasant to the eyes is he not?" She teased. "Except from the fact he is only a penniless commoner. What a shame." 

Francesca did not reply. Instead, other ladies would greet her, even attempt to start small talk, ignoring Cressida over and over. She was almost as a magnet attracting people when all she needed at that moment was to be alone.

"Miss Bridgerton." A man introduced himself. "Lord Cane, I am so fortune to have found you here this evening." He smiled. "I'm the Earl of Cane, land by the west of-"

"An Earl you say?" Cressida tried to enter the conversation, working on her charms. "How impressive." She comolimented, standing her hand for him to kiss. "Cressida Cowper, the host's daughter."

"Oh...Miss Cowper." He nodded with disinterest, not taking her hand. "Yes, I have heard about you. Good to see you." The most polite offense ever heard. "Anyway, Miss Bridgerton, how are you enjoying the evening?"

"Miss Bridgerton!" Another man, more lively arrived, thrilled to see the sparkler. "What an honor. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm the Baron Alex Wonfick."

"Alex, stand aside would you?" A friend next to him joked. "Baron Carmine Stewart, enchanted to meet you, Miss Bridgerton." He lowered his hat, ahowing his blonde hair strands.

During this awkward interaction, Cressida Cowper remained there, trying to speak but interrupted over and over, simoly ignored as a tree in the background of a show at the theater.

That was supposed to be her moment, her time to shine, and it turned out to be her downfall.

And the girl who gained all the attention was staring away, to any other direction than the suitors, hands behind her back, nervous, counting the seconds to leave.

There was a pause in the music, as Francesca took the chance to rush to meet Mercy, Cressida felt the blood boil in her veins.

Mercy Reeves stood up from the booth for a quick pause, the crowd applauded, as he was suddenly approached by the Bridgerton girl.

"Mr.Reeves." She carefully came closer, eyes shy to the contact.

"Miss Bridgerton." He cleared his throat, visibly hurt. "I did not know you'd come."

"I decided it just this afternoon."

"I see."

Another heavy pause in silence between them, that was crushing her.

"Wonderful music. Originals?" She asked delicately.

"Yes. New work I've been creating."

"They are stunning." Francesca wondered if any of those pieces were inspired on her. She could ready picture it, Mercy in his composition in his roon, pouring his talent and feelings onto those music sheets. How much she admired that man...  "Mr.Reeves...I was wondering if we...um...could speak privately, if you don't mind."

Mercy clenched his jaw, he did not wish to refuse, actually, Mercy was used to pampering Francesca with all her wishes. But he did not wish to feel used,  to only be kissed in empty hallways and then pretend nothing happened. To not even listen to what she felt for him. To not know what they were anymore.

So he acted like the bad guy for once. "As you can see I am very busy." He snapped back, shockung her. "Perphaps another time."

Ftancesca's mouth was only a straight line filled with doubt across her lips. "Of course." She softly whsipered, still weak. "Yes...you are correct, my apologies."

Great, now he felt like the greatest bastard in the universe. Someone could've just borrowed him a knife so he could kill himself right there and then.

Mercy was this close to apologizing, if not for Lord Cowper appearing as a spirit on his shoulder.

"Mr.Reeves, wonderful first act." Lord Cowper established admired. "Well, hello Miss Bridgerton."

"Lord Cowper." She bowed. "Beautiful event." The same sentence to everyone, never failed.

"Thank you. Now, Mr.Reeves, may I talk to you for a second?"

Mercy gazed at Francesca, a hint of fear and concern in his eyes. "Of course. Please excuse us, Miss Bridgerton."

He followed his host untik the upper level of the house, where there was a balcony he could stare at the whole saloon dancing.

"Where did that come from?" His tone suddenly changed to a stern one.

"What?" Mercy asked.

"Those songs."

"I...composed them."

"Composed?" He scoffed. "And people like that?"

"...I do not understand what you mean-"

"In mean time we played real songs, made by real musician" He took a sip of his wine. "But whatever works for the crowd I suppose." He shrugged indifferent. "I need you to play more ballats for the next act, my daughter barely interavted with any man...that useless.."He contained himself not to speak much. "Where are you from, Mr.Reeves?"

He blinked, trying to keep on that old fuck was speaking. Had just insulted him and now asked where he was from, great. "Willow Hollow. A village in the south."

Lord Cowper stopped for a brief moment, staring at his wine almost as if something horrendous had happened to him, cursing his entire lineage.

"Willow Hollow?" He looked back at him. "Is your family still there?"

"My parents are dead." He lied.

"Oh...I see." He nodded, likewise more relieved. "Willow Hollow...that's a name I haven't heard for a long time."

"Have you been there?"

"Almost 30 years ago, yes." He recalled with a smile. "I was young, free, running with my horse while my father scolded me." He chuckled. "I was very young, barely 17 back then."

"I see"

"But I was a charmer." He gloated. "Unlike my daughter, Cressida, I had a line of women coming after me." He smiled."None of them became my wife of course, those...village women, you know how they are. You say sweet things, they get ideas."

The conversation became bothering to Mercy, after all, he was a mere.village boy raised by a village woman. "Sweet things, you say? What sort?"

"Ah, you know the usual" he sighed. "Love promises, poems...songs dedications."

"Songs?"

He hummed in agreement. "There was this woman, her father usrd to be rich but got poor by his vice, may God rest the bastard's soul." He started to speak. "His daughter was the epitome of beauty, delicate, sweet, also somehow adventurous and with terrific humor." He continued. "Used to play the piano, but her father sold it for bottles of wine." He shook his head. "I was targeting her for some time, you see. She didn't care about titles but gestures, that's when I attacked!" He laughed with enthusiasm, shaminv Mercy's shoulder. Lord Cowper seemed very lightheaded by the drinks.

"Attacked...?" Mercy already wished to leave, the man was getting on his nerves, no wonder his guests snd family found him insufferable.

"I bought her a new piano. Beautiful instrument, made of wood, with her name initials on it."

The atmosphere stopped. The stars, the moon, the dust in space, anything could have paralyzed at that sudden moment.

"...Initials?"

"I carved them." Lord Cowper nodded drunk, cheeks rosed and shameless. "She was so happy" He laughed. "Covered me in kisses, played a few songs, we ended up on her bed, you now how it goes."

Mercy's neutral expression was gone, he seemed horrified, petrified. Not even an army could move him at that moment.

"What...happened to her?" He asked.

"The woman?" Cowper furroeed his eyebrows, puffing. "I told her we would marry, you know, the sort of stuff you tell these women. 2 Weeks later my father arranged my wedding to my now wife."

Mercy's hands were sweating. That couldn't be true. He felt sick to core, every cell of his body seemed to burn inside him. The more he looked at the man, the more his mind screaming, begging for a final conclusion.

It took all the strentgh in the word for him to speak. "Do...do you remember her name?"

Lord Cowper looked up thinking. "I'm not sure...the intials were A and R, I think....Adelaide? Amelia?"

"...Adele...?"

"Yes, that one!" He snapped his fingers. "Adele, dear Adele." He chuckled. "But that was long ago. Doesn't matter anymore."

Mercy felt his whole body weak, unable to move. He shaked and trembled in a mix of rage and fear, shock and discovery of the moment she may have been waiting his whole life in secrecy.

"You...never tried to find her?" He mumbled.

"Why would I find a girl I slept with?" He scoffed tapping his shoulder. "I see you are a romantic, Mr.Reeves, we differ in that aspect. I fuck, I thrill, and I leave. That's what I do."He smirked. "Now, I need to greet some people, you have 10 minutes before the next round of music"

Lord Cowper walked away, as a tornado that destroyed a small town, leaving it in shambles. Mercy couldn't speak, his eyes filled with tears, and soon enough, he felt like the same young boy he was at his village when his mother died.

He stumbled, trying to walk, going downstairs, in the saloon, avoiding any noble that wished to speak to him, pushing people in his path, until he gripped onto a soft satin glove.

Francesca Bridgerton, who was speaking to Penelope Featherington at that instant, was suddenly surprised by the way his hand gripped onto her wrist.

"Mr.Reeves?"She gasped. "What...what happened?"

He was pale, milky white, the lips black like a dead man. Her eyes widened to the image, even his eyes seemed on the verge of tears.

"I...may I speak to you, for a moment?"He muttered trying to keep standing.

Francesca gazed at Penelope, who nodded in understanding, then followed him out of the saloon.

Outside, they stood at a small porch facing he gardens, a torrent rain was pouring, as an upconing storm hust as dangerous as the one inside his heart.

"Mercy what happened?" Francesca asked fastly, concerned. "What's wrong?"

"It's him." He whimpered, the tears breaking through. "It's him, Fran!" He cried out.

"Who?" She asked confused, she has never seem Mercy so helpless, so frustrated. "Who, Mercy? Tell me."

"Lord Cowper is my father!" He yelled out, as a huge silenve fell above them.

Francesca's eyes were two bright lamps widen in the dark, completely taken away by the announcement.

"Your..."

Mercy's eyebrows frowned, his shoulders shaked by his sobbing. "He never loved her..." He gulped, completely destroyed. "He never cared..."

"Mercy...I...I'm so sorry...I don't know what to say..."Francesca helplessly stood her arms to him.

Mercy didn't hesitate, he pratically ran into her, head resting on her chest, holding her so tight she barely could breathe. Both their bodies trembled against the cold and the discovery.

"He gave her the piano" He whispered. "Same name engraved, same village I was born..." Francesca's dress would be soon wet by the tears, but she didn't care. She only caressed his hair, dropping a small kiss om his forehead.

At that momeng, none of them cared about people seeing them, Francesca needed to be there for him. Her heart ached while in Mercy's embrace. Seeung him so devastated was almost as if that happened to her instead.

Bleeding and crushed inside, that was the moment Francesca realized that was the answer she's been searching for to her question.

To love someone even at their worst, to feel the same pain, to wish you could change their lives for better, even if it meant to die for them to have yours. That was the love Francesca Bridgerton doubted in the beginning and now was sure about it.

Francesca Bridgerton loved Mercy Reeves, in the most tragic, beautiful, and tragic way, whuch is, in fact, the melodied of their hearts.