"It's that wonderful old-fashioned idea that others come first and you come second. This was the whole ethic by which I was brought up. Others matter more than you do, so 'don't fuss, dear; get on with it'." Audrey Hepburn

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Chapter Five

"Are you certain it is alright for us to be here, Mr Kensington?" asked Faith nervously as soon as Wade was gone.

Cassian wished she would not call him that. But he knew that as she was now part of his household that she was only being proper. "It is my house, Faith," he assured her.

"I know it is not normal for a housemaid to have a child," she stressed. "When women marry they leave employment, I know that. People might think I am an unwed mother."

"You are a widow, Faith," Cassian said softly. How could her husband not have left provisions for his wife and child? When Cassian married, if he ever married, then he would ensure that those he loved would be provided for upon his death. "If anyone has a problem with Lucy then they can answer directly to me."

He saw the relief upon Faith's face, just as her grip of Lucy's hand tightened. She smiled up at him, and he was glad to have brought her reassurance. Cassian hoped that there would be no conflict regarding Lucy. She seemed more like an inquisitive child, rather than a naughty one, anyway.

"Lucy will behave, I promise," Faith said vehemently.

"Good." Cassian smiled. "Would you like a tour?"

Faith's eyes immediately flitted around the foyer. She looked a little intimidated. That was not what Cassian wanted her to feel. He wanted her to be impressed. He wanted to show her that her generosity had not been for nothing.

"Come," he said encouragingly, selecting the drawing room first. Cassian opened the door into his drawing room. He never used the room, but it was decorated finely.

Expensive sofas, lush rugs, and historic timber furniture were expertly placed about the room. In pride of place was his stunning pianoforte. Cassian loved the music, but could not play himself.

It was remarkable, really, that Cassian had gone from death's door to enormous wealth in only three years. His home, and his things, ought to show Faith that she had invested in a clever man.

"This is the drawing room," said Cassian. "I hardly ever sit in here. But the maids keep it beautifully tidy. You will enjoy it more than I," he joked, but Faith did not respond.

Faith's attention was on a painting that hung on the wall. It was a portrait of a family. A mother, father, two sons, and a dog. Painted by a famous artist, he had been told, and purchased for a bargain.

"Who are these people?" she asked. Faith had let go of Lucy, who was now kneeling on the rug tracing the patterns with her finger.

Cassian suddenly felt very foolish, now realising that he had hung a painting of a family that he did not know. "It's a Jourdain," he murmured. "It will only increase in value."

Faith simply smiled. "I used to do that, too."

"What?" Cassian frowned.

"Collect pictures of people. It helps."

"I do not collect pictures of people," he rebuffed. "It is a Jourdain. It is expensive." He pursed his lips. "Helps with what?"

Faith sighed and looked back to the painting. "Loneliness."

Before Cassian could ask her what she meant, Faith had moved on to the pianoforte.

He looked back at the painting and wondered if Faith was right. He had the family in the drawing room. A general in the upstairs hallway. A mother and daughter in the library. Sisters in the dining room. Was he collecting pictures of people? Those were the paintings that he liked.

Cassian liked knowing that there were other faces in his house other than his own. He had not given them names, or anything else that would classify him as a lunatic, but he did wonder about the real people from time to time.

How had Faith guessed that within seconds of viewing the painting? Was he that transparent?

But Faith had admitted to doing the same thing in the past. Why had she been lonely?

Cassian was pulled back into reality when Faith ran her fingers over the ivory keys. The sound was awful. It was terribly out of tune.

"When was the last time you tuned your instrument?" she asked, pulling her hand away from the keys.

"Seeing as it has not once been touched, I would say never." He forgot that pianos needed tuning. They were not simply there to look at.

"Not once? Does not Mrs Kensington play?" Faith asked casually.

Had she not already noticed his pathetic collection of companions that hung on is wall? "I am not married."

Faith smiled. "If you have the tools, I can tune this for you. I used to look after my own pianoforte once."

Cassian truly wondered what must have happened to her husband's finances. To have lived so finely, and to fall to such poverty was truly confusing. "I would appreciate it." And he would pay her for it, no matter how she protested. "Shall we continue?"

Faith nodded. "Come along, Lucy," she said, extending her hand.

Cassian led them into his dining room, another room that he rarely used. His long dining table was the feature of the room, and one of these days, he was going to use it.

"What a lovely table," Faith complimented.

"It cost me thirty pounds," explained Cassian. "I overpaid most definitely, but just listen to that," he knocked on the table, enjoying the sound, "solid oak."

"Oh," was all Faith said in response.

Cassian frowned. "I wish I used it more." He just did not enjoy dining alone.

Faith's eyes widened. "You paid thirty pounds for a table you do not even use?" She quickly clamped her mouth shut. "I apologise. That is none of my business."

On the contrary, it was. It was her business to see that he had used her money to make himself a success. But when she put it like that, it was a little ridiculous to have such an expensive table sitting idly when he did not use it.

"I will make an effort to eat in here more often."

Cassian continued to show Faith and Lucy around his house. He pointed out his favourite pieces, and made sure to inform Faith of how he came across them, and how much he paid for them. He thought it important for Faith to know that he had not wasted her kindness.

But her responses became fewer and far between. She stayed silent, not giving him any clue as to what she was thinking. She certainly was not as impressed as he was hoping she would be, and he had no idea why.

When they finally reached the fourth floor, and the room where she and Lucy would be sleeping, Cassian had had enough.

"Faith, what is the matter with you?" he asked suddenly.

"What do you mean?" she asked dismissively.

"You have not said a word this whole time. I have been showing you my house and you have been silent."

Faith's eyes narrowed. "What do you want from me?"

Cassian huffed. "I want you to be impressed," he said flatly.

"Why?" Faith asked, sounding confused.

Cassian suddenly had a thought. He had spent the whole morning showing her every part of his success. Their circumstances had changed so. They were entirely reversed. Faith and Lucy had been living in a tiny room after having been rich once.

"Are you jealous?" he asked accusingly, immediately regretting it. But his stupid mouth would not stop. "Are you jealous because our circumstances are reversed?"

Faith's eyes flared. "Jealous?" she repeated. "Of what?"

Cassian could not stop. "Of my things. Of my success," he continued.

Faith held Lucy in front of her, playing with her curls as she spoke. Her tone was calm, despite Cassian's thoughtless insult. "Your things do not define you."

"I know that."

Faith shook her head. "I do not think that you do. You have spent the best part of the morning telling me the price of everything you own. You are proud of them, and that is wonderful, but you speak of them as though they define you. You and I differ immensely in what we value, I think. I have a healthy child. I have my health. We are safe. We are well. Those are the things that I value, Mr Kensington."

Having a nice dining table did not define him. Having a nice piano did not define him. His success defined him. And he had fine things because of his success. "I only want to impress you," he said sincerely.

"You do not need to impress me."

"I need to show you that I have made something of myself." Cassian sighed and leant against the wall.

"Is that what all this is about?"

Cassian stared at her. "Of course. It was what you asked of me."

"Is this our bedroom?"

Cassian nodded.

Faith opened the door to her and Lucy's bedroom. "Go and get into bed Lucy. I shall be in to kiss you in a minute." Lucy obeyed her mother and Faith shut the door. "She needs to have a sleep," she explained. "Do you think that you have made something of yourself, Mr Kensington?"

"Yes." Was it not obvious? They were standing in the product of his success. "I made my fortune. I built my business."

Faith knitted her fingers together and stood before him. "If you think that by having wealth you have made something of yourself then you are mistaken. You have made your fortune, but what have you done with it? Who has benefitted from it but you? What sort of man are you?"

Cassian was speechless. And then he was overwhelmingly disappointed. He had spent the last three years building his business, and making his fortune, in an attempt to make something of himself, just as Faith had asked. He had done that, or so he had believed.

And now it was all for nothing.

"No matter our past, my opinion of you does not matter. I am grateful to you. You have helped Lucy and me immeasurably."

But her opinion did matter to him. And to not have her approval was honestly heartbreaking. Cassian had never felt like such a failure before.

"Our circumstances have reversed, you are right. But I feel I have more with nothing, then I ever did with everything," she said softly.

Cassian could not understand it. When he had nothing, he was dying. He was starving to death. Faith could never understand what that was like. He would never go back to that. "I cannot go back to having nothing, Faith. I was dying."

"I do not mean it literally, if only you knew ... oh, forget I said anything." Faith covered her face with her hands. "I am not the person to give advice on what it is right or wrong. I am sorry."

What did that mean? He had always thought of Faith as an angel. He had held her to a higher standard of being, really. She had been perfect in his mind. But here she was, in reality, and perhaps she was not as perfect as he had imagined. But who was?

Faith had pointed out, as clear as day, that he was not perfect. Neither was she. Cassian was beginning tounderstand that there was a lot more to Faith Rowe than met the eye.

"I had better make sure Lucy is sleeping. We all had a long night."

"Yes, you should rest, too," Cassian said quietly.

Faith smiled at him sadly and disappeared behind her door.

"There you are, sir," panted Wade.

Cassian turned his head toward his butler.

"The detectives are here, sir."

"Thank you, Wade. I shall be right down."

Faith wanted to know what sort of man he was. He was the sort of man to look after his workers and his household. With one last look at Faith's door, Cassian made his way downstairs.