MERCY REEVES DIDN'T TEACH THE NEXT MORNING, NOR THE LATER ONE, OR THE ONE AFTER. In fact, he informed the viscount he was too busy with a project on the orphanage and allowed his payment to be suspended until his return to his lectures. Anthony didn't insist or complain, and when he asked about Francesca's opinion on the matter, she acted like she didn't care.

Truth was Francesca Bridgerton dreamt about him at each second of her day and captured herself touching her lips with her fingertips to remember the sensation of his kiss. Her first kiss. Her cheeks flushed just by remembering it. The sensation of the cold air and the heat of her skin, it drove her mad. His whispers, his voice, his words...She shook her head, tried to listen to something her mother said, but couldn't quite focus on it.

Life became harder suddenly since that anniversary party. Bellatrix left with Benedict and their daughter back to their country house, so she didn't really have someone who would be so prompt to listen to her issues. Daphne had already returned to her duchy with Simon, and Eloise was too busy dealing with Penelope Featherington's husband hunt. She knew she couldn't tell her mother, how could she understand? She didn't suffer when her father was alive, their love was perfect and easy, a true fairytale. Anthony was secluded, seemed quite upset about a matter he wouldn't share and would work for hours in his office, and Colin? Colin only cared about his travels, according to Gregory (the only one who endured all his talking) he was already planning his next departure to Asia now.

So Francesca was once again alone, worse than before, and she faced the piano but couldn't get herself to properly play it. Her throat closed, her guts twisted, and she could remember his praises in her ear "Exceptional, Miss Bridgerton." Her eyes watered, it was a frequent episode now, to daydream in the middle of a crowd and suddenly remember him, making all her defenses crumble but still attempting to keep herself together.

Lord Samadani proved to be even more insufferable when he began talking about marriage, Francesca always tried to avoid the subject, creating a clever, unfunny joke he wouldn't laugh or understand until he'd suddenly talk about how she felt about breastfeeding a child when so young. Other suitors also approached her, and she shared talks, promenades, gifts, and dances, but all of them made her only feel like a shiny accessory they showed off. Look! I am courting the Diamond of The Season!

She wondered so many times how Daphne had endured it, she could never be her, Daphne dazzled, enchanted, Francesca wanted to disappear.

Whiteldown's brief comment about her duet with Mercy at the anniversary (now her issues were mostly about Stephen Surrey since his arrival in London) only made her sob on her pillow. She described them as "A meeting between two ghosts in a harmonious room, the sound of the afterlife and the beauty of timeliness, one could easily cry to this holy symphony, just as, for example, Albion Finch, who cleaned his discharge on the edge of his wife's gown, expecting nobody to notice."

Indeed, Francesca was miserable, had lost some pounds, talked even less than usual, and when they asked her if she was fine, she'd answer "I've never been better" What a terrible liar.

After a long torturing week, she was tempted to ask Anthony about Mercy's news. Maybe he could ask her motive, which would only lead to further suspicion, but either way, she was anxious, and at dinner time, in a very unusual occasion, Violet suddenly asked "What has happened to Mercy Reeves?" Francesca almost choked on the vegetables she chewed. 

"What do you mean?" Anthony raised an eyebrow, and now the discussion had changed its' subject, it was useless to drift them away from the topic.

Francesca was next to Eloise, who tried to steal some potatoes from her plate, dueling against her with their forks, it was funny how Gregory, otherwise, didn't steal a chance against Hyacinth's attacks across the dining table, she was too much of strategy, while he delayed himself to properly build a defense.

"He hasn't lectured since the anniversary in Aubrey Hall." Violet connected the dots, her sparkling eyes wandering the dining table. "Gregory stop fighting with your sister." She called him out, while Colin, who was next to her, helped himself with a second portion.

"Well he told me he was helping St.Claire's orphanage in an important project, reforming their old chapel I believe." Anthony clicked his tongue trying to remember. "He was very modest when he asked to be absent for a fortnight-"

"A fortnight?" Francesca gasped, and the family looked at her amused. Damn it, she didn't disguise it enough.

"...yes." He nodded slowly, surprised by her reaction. "It is a very old church, they need to reconstruct their whole structure, paint it-"

"And you agreed with it?" 

An awkward pause in silence, Eloise squinted her eyes to Francesca, from what she observed her sister was incredibly offended by Anthony's decision. How strange, it took a lot to actually make her lose her posture, she was even more polite than Daphne in that sense, so collected and well-mannered, she would never discuss at the dining table, especially with her family.

"It was  very important matter for both him and the children who live in the orphanage." Anthony cautiously explained to her, his sister's posture was tense, and rigid, expressing hostileness. "I could not deny him of helping."

"Right." Violet agreed trying to help her son. "And..uh...Mr.Reeves is man of very much faith, correct Anthony?" He nodded. "Reforming his church must be a spiritual connection to him as well, going against his beliefs would be unwise."

"He even ask to suspend his payment." Anthony retorted. "I must say, not many would do what he did, I admire his honesty." He added and Francesca's blood boiled. "Very sincere, of good moral...a true example"

"Indeed. He's a good man."

Francesca's silverware fell on the floor, startling the family at her sudden movement. Her face was frozen into stone, terribly annoyed by the situation. "My apologies, my fingers slipped." She spoke emotionless, and Eloise's eyes widened at her drastic mood change. Francesca grabbed the silverware, set it aside, and quickly turned to her mother. "Mama may I please excuse myself to my room? I don't feel so well."

Violet became concerned "Oh...what do you feel dear? Should we call a doctor?"

"No." She shook her head. "I...It's only a headache, I just need to rest. May I please take my leave?" Francesca insisted feeling rather tense.

"Of course, dear" Violet nodded and Francesca quickly stood up, exiting the dining room. "Um...If you need anything, ring the bell-" But she was already gone upstairs. The silence crept between them again.

"What has gotten into her?" Colin cleaned his dirty mouth with a napkin. 

"You heard her, it might have been just a headache." Anthony ended the subject as he took his leave as well. "I've got work to do, good night."

The family repeated good night to him in a chorus, and before Violet could worry about her daughter, Gregory nd Hyacinth began to cause trouble again, soon enough she was distracted calling their names and trying to educate the two.

Eloise otherwise, had a bad feeling about it, still, couldn't do anything about it, except shake away the thoughts and hope her sister was alright.

...

Sweat dripped from his face, dripping through his chest and all the way down, making the white shirt with the sleeves pulled up almost see-through. The kids ran in the backyard of the orphanage, while some men carried heavy wood beams on their shoulders. Mercy helped them out in teams, then took turns hammering pieces to structures and painting the outside of the church. In that long, torturing week he had been helping in the new chapel he had managed to distract himself over what happened, well, not completely. No matter how much pray, worked, or meditated, he could still see the image of Francesca Bridgerton in the back of his mind, lying on the ground.

He could still feel the touch of her hands on his chest, the soft whisper of when she called his first name in the darkness, the heat that forbiddenly grew between them. He shivered underneath the chappel's still reforming roof. Asked for forgiveness, and almost ruined the girl's honor and their lives. She deserved better, being away was for the better.

Pulled away some wet dark hair strands from his face and continued with his work, there was still much work to do, get new benches, fix the old rusty bell...

"Mercy..." Her soft moan was still resonating in his being.

He audibly groaned, why couldn't he just get it together? She would get over him, it was just a matter of time. She didn't even feel such a deep emotion towards him anyway. She'd soon find a match and this would be over, that was it.

The sun shined brightly outside, Father Wright, the priest of that chapel, a very simple man already of age, helped Mercy organize some new materials.

"You may put it over there, Mercy." He said softly with a kind, wrinkled smile.

"Alright." The young man worked with no complaints, setting aside some new bags of cement over a corner. They weight quite a lot but that did not stop him.

He remembered Father Wright in his childhood, he liked to hear him preaching on sunday, when the nuns would take the children to the chapel and he'd arrive, calm and gentle as always, speaking of the Lord.

He encouraged Mercy to play the piano on the church in events, which increased his recognition in the ton when very young. Although he didn't agree much when he drifted from the religious path to pursuit his music professionally, he insisted he would be of greater service in the church.

"I think that is the last one." Mercy sighed, hands on his hips, chest moving up and down. But father Wright's hazel eyes turned to a point behind Mercy, sharing a  confused expression with him. "Father?" He asked, and just then turned around to where he looked at.

It was one narrowed silhouette in the old wooden church's front door. The gaze was shy but determined, holding a small purse in front of the blue dress decorated with soft lace flowers on the sleeves. A vision of an angel.

But Mercy Reeves wished to run at the vision of that angel. He felt terrified.

Francesca Bridgerton failed to speak, but her gaze to the musician already spoke volumes instead. Father Wright immediatly took a hint. "I believe that is for you..."He tapped his shoulder. "I'll meet you back at the orphanage."

Mercy nodded a bit awkward to him, and just when the old man left and there were just the two conflicted hearts there, Francesca took a step forward.

"Miss Bridgerton." He greeted briefly, the cheeks slightly flushed, his bidy trembling in fear. "What is...the reason of your visit?"

Francesca took a deep breath, gathering the courage to sneak out when going out with Eloise, the two agreeing to not tell mother about where they were truly going only to meet later when going home seemed like a good idea at first. But now she was frozen again, like a wall was generated between them.

"So it is true." She muttered a bit ashamed when watching the walls in construction. "You're really reconstructing the chapel..."

He scratched the back of his head, a forced smile. "Uhm..yes." He nodded. "A storm destroyed the roof a few months ago, we finally got enough funds to fix it and reform the church." Francesca only listened quietly to his words, politeness covering the wounds of that evening, until it hit him. "Wait...you said 'really reconstructing'...didn't you believe I was doing it?" Mercy seemed a bit offended.

Oh how great, Francesca ruined it before even starting to speak properly. As if it wasn't already hard to concentrate when she could see his fully marked chest through the wet shirt, and how his arms dripped marked by the sunlight, the veiny hands calloused from the hard work resting on his hips.

If she watched for much longer her mouth would drool, turned away, keeping it ladylike and appropriate

"You disappeared." She confessed. "Right after...right after Aubrey Hall, and I may have-"

"You thought I lied." Mercy looked at her serious. Francesca did not face him. He scoffed, hands running through his face. "Well are you satisfied now?" He showed the church with a bitter mannerism.

She did not like his accusatory tone. She was the one hurt, he was the one who pushed her away, he couldn't be victiming himself now, not after breaking her hart after her first kiss.

"Am I? You tell me." She finally gained courage to speak, Mercy stood still. "That happened..."She gulped. "And suddenly you were gone." He felt the frustration on her tone, pain struck him to see her that way. "Making me wonder what I've done wrong...with no one to speak about it."

"We can never speak to anyone about what happened." He sharply interjected.

He was being harsh, he knew that, but all he wanted was for her to understand it was for her safety. Mercy could not bare seeing Francesca badly talked on the ton, written wrongly in Whistledown, with her reputation ruined and a miserable life. He'd rather die than to carry that curse of ruining her.

"I thought you agreed to be my instructor, and only my instructor." She responded instead. "But you did not keep your only promise."

That hurt. "I..The orphanage needed me." He lied. The construction could've been delayed another month, but he insisted on doing it now, all so he could escape Francesca. Deep inside she knew that couldn't be a mere coincidence. "I already talked to the viscount-"

"You seemed different." Francesca expressed her frustration, her fingers fidgeted anxiously. "From everyone I was obligated to speak to, you're the only one who I felt thrilled to, not exhausted." She pursed her rose lips. "but all of sudden you were gone."

A sword stabbing would've been less painful, as now he had to face those tortured blue eyes and endure the truth. "I needed time."

"Time for what?" She was annoyed by now. "To prolongue my suffering?"

"You do not understand." He shook his head. "Could you just listen for once? Put yourself in my position?"

"What I understand is that you choose to ignore what happened in that garden, what we did, and just hide!" She exclaimed angry, Francesca never raised her tone, it shook him tremendously.

Mercy Reeves ardently sighed, as if he carried a huge weight on his shoulders. He cleaned some dust fron those large hands and took a step closer. Her body shakenee with a crescent tension in her being, all she could remember was the last time they were this close, how it felt to have him so close, to actually be able to touch him...

And his eyes, this aquamarine, mythical shade were so entrancing and poisoning at that very moment, she could simply sink into them, drown and die all at once.

"Hide?" He scoffed, a bittersweet, angry grin across his face. "Miss Francesca do you even know what is to truly hide?" He raised his chin in an intimidating gesture. "To be seen as a mere insect by other people, to be stepped on if you do not avoid your path from them, that, miss Francesca is hiding, not this game you play." He clicked his tongue. "Do not speak as if you truly understand the meaning of it, hence your nature could never survive in such terms."

"My nature?' She looks at hin heartbroken. "Are you saying that because of my birth?"

"You are part of the high peers. Your brother is a viscount, you did not have to lift a finger your entire life to do anything." He spoke through his teeth. "And you now you found entertainment in a mere man as me, who has much less to loose than you, and you tell me I'm hiding."

"I do not plan to ruin you-"

"But you will. We will." He spoke with such determination that her eyes widened at his intensity. "I will not deny our friendship, our unlikely...affection, towards one another. But as I've said, our classes are completely distinct, what we feel could not be more repulsive to the ton."

Francesca looked down, her cheeks flushed with slight irritation, fingers flexing nervous, she couldn't face him, she couldn't, because if she did, she would probably break into tears. Her feet tapped constantly in disappointment, while he stood there, unable to do a thing not to make the situation worse. Oh he wanted to hold her, hold her so delicately and assure her it would be alright, that he did care fot her, that they could be that way again. But he didn't.

"I do not wish for the ton to decide what I feel." She insisted, her tone trembling with difficulty to reassure herself. He was surprised by her determination. "Do you at least think about it?" She suddebly asked. "That evening, in that garden?" Tell me you do not remember it, but say it with honesty, clearly, so I will never mention the subject ever again."

Mercy Reeves felt his body heavy as an anchor. That delicate porcelain doll was lethal as a weapon made to kill. Francesca Bridgerton was the sort of person that spoke volunes in silence, and if she used words, those were precisive, incredibly efficent when said to the right person and at the right mlment when she felt ready to do it. That was one of those moments.

He gulped, looking away, admiring the holy construction. "Miss Bridgerton-"

"Please, Mr.Reeves." She finally looked up and he almost fainted bt how angelic she could appear when asking of the most forbidden desire. "Please, answer me, that is all I ask of you."

His breath failed, his heart speeded, the blood ran through his veins so fastly, maybe failing to reach his brain because when he answered, he forgot to be rational. "I dream of you every night." Francesca's jaw almost dropped. Mercy mentally cursed himself. "You...haunt me, night and day, the memory of your laugh, your incredible thoughts, your comforting yet quiet presence..." He clenched his jaw. "That garden...I wonder if I am expierecing the passage of Dante through his inferno." He sighed tortured. "Only God knows what my mind has recalled, and recreated, and imagined over theses days...little machiavellian invetions that shall never see daylight."

"Why not?" Francesca took a step closer and Mercy almost jumped like a kittle scared dog, his breath sucked in.

"We are in a church Miss Bridgerton." He tried to remind themselces, but could barely help it, his body was already warm and eager to meet hers. "I should not, no, I can not, think of such things in here." He shook his head. "But you...damn you" He cursed, making her gasp. "You profane this temple, profane my soul, for showing up here as a temptation of my obscure and prohibited desires."

Her lashes fluttered as she pouted involubtairly. "I am sorry, Mr.Reeves" She whispered.

He closrd his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself. "Bloody hell...I should've became a Priest when I had the chance." Francesca looked at him quiet, still wide eyed, so close yet so far, as now he opened his dangerous sight to her, some growing, insatiable desire in them. "Go home, Miss Bridgerton." He demanded.

"But Mr.Reeves-"

"Take your carriage and departure immediatly, your family will look for you soon and-"

"Mercy?" It was Sister Amy, one of the youngest nuns, accompanied by Mother Browyn by her side. The two looked at the couple curious, before opening a smile. "Oh, we didn't know Mercy brought a visit! Hello dear!" The young blonde nun said.

By her side, the elderly woman, introduced them both, she was Mother Browyn, the same nun that accompanied mercy at Lord Fuller's event. "Mercy, enough work, the kids are inside, lunch is ready." She ordered as if she was indeed his mother. "And you dear, come join us."

"Oh...I-I really don't want to bother-"

"You don't bother at all, any friend of Mercy's is welcome." She smiled. "What's your name again?"

"Francesca...Francesca Bridgerton." She blushed.

"Oh, you're the girl he's teaching!"Francesca smiled softly as she noticer Mercy has spoken of her to them. He looked away embarrassed. "Come, Miss Bridgerton, or the soup will get cold! Hush!"

"But Mother Browyn, her family-"

"Mercy I did not ask for your opinion on the matter." She said, as the young nun by her side laughed loudly. "You are smelling like a pig, please go shower before joining us. Now come along, Miss Bridgerton."

...

It wasn't a very silent dining table, Francesca had to admit, but there was an incredible amount of joy in that gathering, as multiple kids ran around, or sat by the table and continued talking nonstop.

Some of the nuns tried to serve them with vegetables, followed with a chorus of "nooo" when they did so. But in every activity there was much attention and caring.  All the nuns expressed love for the children in their own ways. Sister Amy would tell them jokes, Mother Browyn would instruct proper ettiquette and manners, and Mother Sara, a middle aged woman with sparkling green eyes, used to kiss each of the kids's foreheads after serving them brocoli.

Only those three nuns worked in that orphanage, for Francesca's susprise. After all it was a large number of children and an old, but not so big construction to take care of them all.

The shy Bridgerton girl was squeezed between Sister Amy and a black boy who would play with his food. Francesca waved at him and he shot her a warm smile, but did not say a word.

"Christopher is mute." Amy whispered to her. "He has never spoken since he was born, neither can hear what we say."

But that did not seem to bother the boy in any of his activities, he smiled, played, and communicated with sign language that the nuns taught him.

"Mother Sara went abroad only to learn it." Amy explained. "None of us knew how to properly communicate with him, that was until Mercy heard of a sign language course in Oxford."

"Mercy?" Francesca blinked curious.

"Yes, he talked with some folks who he met during his travels in events. He paid for Mother Sara to go with Christopher, and there they both learned the language." She smiled with much happiness. "He's such a good boy, so smart, obedient, we were so blessed to have found a way to speak to him."

Francesca observed quietly the boy with his other friends, all of them seemed to have learnt sign language as well, Mother Sara must've taught them all so he wouldn't feel left out. It was quite beautiful.

"Careful Amy, this silverware and porcelain are new, Mercy bought them last week."Browyn adverted as Amy helped Sara serve the food.

It seemed like most of the Orphanage, at each corner and spot, had something Mercy helped in. Fixing the stairs, buying new fabric for clothes, musical classes for the kids, he would give his body and soul for them.

Speaking of him...

"Finally! Took you long enough." Mother Browyn would mock as the young man would come downstairs and sit by her side, right across Francesca. His hair was wet from the bath, he smelled like flowers, just as the kids, a d had this beautiful light aurea surrounding him, so happy, so energized.

A smile spread across his diamond shaped cheekbones as he visualized Francesca playing with Christopher, fluttering his heart, but trying to keep it together.

"Couldn't show up smelling like cheese, right Molly?" He joked with a little dark haired girl by his side who chuckled while hugging her teddy bear. "But I must say I am quite offended you have started lunch without me."

Christopher turned to him and made some gestures Francesca did not understand, but Mercy laughed. He did some other signs in return and the boy grinned. She was clueless the entire process.

"He should be a comedian." Mercy chuckled a bit softly as Mother Sara served him a great large portion of food. "Goodness gracious, you've outdone yourself this time, Mother Sara. God Bless yout soul." She smiled at his excitement.

Indeed, their food was exquisite. Years of cooking for kids granted them experience, and soon enough as the kids exited the dining table, the conversations between the adults continued.

"How's the chapel going?" Mother Browyn asked. She seemed like the oldest and thr most serious of them all, the one in charge for the orphanage.

"We're finishing the structure. All the materials have arrived, so it won't take too long." Mercy answered as he helped himself a second time, all the hard work made him starve.

"God bless you and all the man helping. Soon enough we'll be able to worship our Lord properly." She smiled thankful. "Now, let's speak of more interesting matters." She gave a mischievous smile. "You, Miss Bridgerton."

Francesca almost choked surprised. "Me?"

"Yes, you." She nodded. "We were so thrilled to meet you, Mercy has spoken so much of you."

"Mother Browyn-"He tried to complain with flushed cheeks and embarrasing fast heartbeat speed.

"Indeed, he said you were so talented." Amy added. "Also added that the classes were so delightful."

"We apologize in advance to keep him away from the piano." Mother Sara chuckled. "We needed his help with the Chapel but we promise to return him in no time."

"Oh, that is not an issue..." Frabcesca said a bit ashamed to have judged Mercy so easily, he was truly being honest when he spoke to Anthony.

"Well but you did come to see him, he must be important to you after all." Amy teased.

"Sister Amelia!" Mother Browyn retorted making the young nun shut her mouth instantly. "Do not be inappropriate with our guest."

"Sorry, Mother Browyn, it wasn't my intention."

Mother Browyn only cleared her throat and turned to Mercy. "Why don't you show Miss Bridgerton the orphanage?"

"But the chapel-"

"It can wait." She insisted, noticing the two needed to talk. "Besides, Father Wright doesn't work immediatly after lunch, he always takes a nap first, right sisters?" The other two nodded. "Great, enough time for you to show Miss Bridgerton the orphanage. Go."

Mercy curved his mouth a bit contraried to her idea, but agreed. In a matter of minutes there he was, escorted by Francesca Bridgerton, while he introduced each room of the Orphanage to her.

And it was impossible not to melt as he greeted the kids talked to them while they walked through the residence, even stole a cookie in the kitchen to give it to a young boy who craved one. Mercy seemed not like this rigid statue he was in the ton, he was simply the same Mercy she spot in that garden, or when they were alone. An easy, light hearted and sweet persona, kind and gentle to everyone.

In that environment he couldn't stay mad at Francesca. Not when he started talking about Benjamin loosing his first tooth, or how the young Hannah broke her leg when riding a pony and worried everyone, but had the biggest of the smiles even on the ground.

He stopped by a room, it had 4 beds, belonged to 4 little boys who had ran around out of the room as soon as they arrived.

"This one's shared between Christopher, Benjamin, Tobias and Pablo." He responded, but his eyes glistened with nostalgia. "Used to be my room when I lived here."

She raised her eyebrows. "Yours?" He nodded.

"My bed was the last one on the left." he gave a half smile. "I used to study music sheets until dawn. Alexander, the boy with the bed next to mine would always ask me to please stop using a candle so late, the light would get in his eyes and he couldn't sleep." He chuckled.

"You seem to have good memories of h
this place"

He agreed. "At first I was very depressed...my mother had died, I was stuck to a house filled with strangers...some kids were mean at the time too."He shook his head. "But Mother Browyn was there for me. She was stern but kind, helped me see this place as a home."

"The kids seem to love them all."

"Mother Sara is the sweetest woman you'll ever meet" He grinned. "She spoils the kids, pameper them the most she can." He chuckled. "Sister Amelia arrived recently, 3 years ago, but the kids find her hilarious, I heard she's great at telling stories."

Francesca smiled sweetly to Mercy's remarks, he spoke so passionately about that place, it seemed to hold dear space to his heart.

They continued walking for some time until they reached another separate area, a bit more quiet, where a yoing girl tried to reach to a piano. It seemed like an old one, very large and next to a corner, not like the other instruments she saw at other rooms, the ones the kids used to play.

"Hello Madelyn." Mercy greeted the redheaded 3 year old. "Trying to play?" She nodded. "Well let me help you out." He carried the young girl in his arms and sat on the booth, while she sat on his knee, sticking her arms to reach the tiles. She pressed the white pieces abd made some weird noises, giggling with enthusiasm. "That was perfect! Wow!" He complimented as Francesca watched in awe, with a silly smile across her face. "Again, come on, you can do it." She touched the black keys now. "You're better in this than I am." The young girl made some noises in celebration.

Carefully, he let her down again, as another older girl would take her outside to play with the others. When Mercy turned around, all he caught was Francesca Bridgerton smiling.

"The kids are very fond of you, I see." She spoke softly, like poison to his heart.

"Yes...Yes, I believe so."He tried to appear rigid and stoic again, but failed. "Um..this is where it all started." He pointed to the old piano by the corner. "I practiced on this one when I was younger." Francesca looked at him astonished. "I know, it's not like it used before, dusty, out of tune, but kept as a memento." He gave a half smile. "I know it sounds very sentimental of my part."

"It isn't." Francesca took a shy step closer, his semblant more vulnerable as she hesitantly tried to reach for his loosen white shirt's sleeve. "That's sweet, actually." She spoke instead, fingertips briefly touching the fabric.

He stared at them still quiet, a growing tension that only increased and bothered them both.

"I won't break my promise." He suddenly whispered, watching her fingers tremble as they gripped on the edge of his sleeve. "I...I will continue my lessons." He finally looked at her, those aquamarine jewels piercing into her eyes with hidden longing. "But we must establish boundaries, Miss Bridgerton."

Francesca sighed, she knew he was right, but couldn't help but be frustrated. It's not like her feelings, and his, would disappear over night. "I understand." She nodded, aware that it was useless to keep fighting. At this point, Francesca simply wished for his silent company all days, even if they couldn't be more, even if she couldn't feel the soft touch of his lips on her again, or feel those arms around her. "I...I apologize for pushing you, I mean, coming here and doubting, I-I should've-"

"You had all the reasons to it." He simply said, trying to ease her mind. "I was...scared to speak to you, to cross even more lines. I apologize." Mercy declared, then shot her a charming smile. "Although I appreciate your visit. the children and the nuns were...I was happy." He established delicately, sending her heart to the speed of lightning  "You may come visit here anytime you wish, you'll be very much welcome."

Francesca smiled tenderly. "Thank you." She muttered shy. "It was...wonderful to know more about your childhood, and meet these lovely children and foundation."

He looked up at the clock, as he noticed the sun setting down in the sky. "It is getting late, you should return home." Mercy said concerned. "Do you have a chaperone?"

Francesca nodded. "I have a carriage waiting for me outside."

"Good."

The two looked at one another still a bit awkwardly, wishing to say, confess, feel, so many things at once but couldn't. Instead, they only guided themselves until the door.

With many farewells and wishes of return, Franceaca finally was about to enter her carriage, trying to lift a hit the long dress so she wouldn't trip on it.

"Allow me, please." Mercy whispered, as in a soft, swift movement, he held her hand and used his own as support for her to het in the carriage. The contact of no gloves made her skin heat up and tickle, almost electrify them both. She tried to look at his face, an enignafic expression she couldn't decipher.

Did he know the arson he committed to her heart? What a careless criminal.

The door was closed, the hands were separated, and Francesca only watched the silhouette of St.Clair's orphanage disappear in the horizon.

Took a deep breath, trying to dissipate her overworking mind and tortured heart. At least he would come back, she'd have her friend back, that's all she wanted, wasn't it?

It had to be enough.

When reaching the streets of mayfair and meeting with her sister Eloise, who was relying tiredsome next to a wall, the older one gasped.

"Where have you been?" Eloise came to her desperate. "You promised to meet me an hour ago."

"I'm sorry, I may have list track of time." Francesca mumbled shy, unable to be honest.

Eloise was the best partner in crime to sneak out unchaperoned, but Francesca did not feel comfortable enough to speak the truth, especially when Mercy was returning as her professor now and they promised to forget what happened. She couldn't do that just yet.

"Well then, where were you?" Eloise asked. "Did you solve the urgent matter you said you had to?"

Did she solve it? Not the way she wished to, but somehow, yes.

Francesca nodded. "Yes...and you?"

"I was almost caught in a riot." Francesca widened her eyes. "Do not ask me how, just be aware that I am perfecty fine and that is what matters."She handled her a bag. "New dress, so mama won't be suspicious that we went shopping but didn't buy anything." The two grinned to one another. "Now come, we must return before Anthony throws a fit"

Francesca Bridgerton wasn't the most likely within her siblings to have a double life, but in that little thrill of it all, to meet and dive herself into secrets and a hidden feeling she wished to develop further, everything, her boring and noisy life, became all more intriguing and colorful.

It is as they say, the most quiet, the most  wicked.