"Don't walk in front of me... I may not follow

Don't walk behind me... I may not lead

Walk beside me... just be my friend." Albert Camus

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Chapter Six

The metropolitan police had departed Cassian's home. Cassian had given his statement, but had emphasised that he did not want Henry Towler's life to be ruined. While his behaviour and actions were deplorable, Cassian did not believe that the typhus filled prisons were a just punishment.

He had instead urged for penal labour as an alternative.

Cassian sat back in his desk chair and placed his hands on his stomach. He had just spared a man who had done him wrong certain imprisonment. Did that not make him a good man?

And just because he enjoyed being able to purchase fine things, that did not make him a bad person.

Cassian had dreamed of finding his angel for years. He had long imagined the day that he would find her, and he would show her what her generosity had brought about.

And that dream had come to fruition, and it was nothing like he had imagined. Faith was not proud of him, and she had questioned the sort of man he was instead.

Cassian did not see much of Faith during her first week in his home. He saw her infrequently, and when he did, she had her head down, and a serious expression upon her fair face as she carried a broom or a mop off to her next chore.

The following Tuesday morning, Cassian was reviewing a report he had been sent from his factory in Yorkshire. The manager had compiled a detailed list of profits and expenses, as well as an updated employee list.

Cassian's eyes were still quite tired. The figures were hazy as it was still quite early in the morning. But he had not slept well, and so he had decided to get up and be productive.

He was suddenly startled by the door to his study opening abruptly. Cassian's head snapped up to see Faith standing in the doorway, a cloth in one hand, and a duster in the other.

Faith looked especially beautiful this morning, owing to a healthy flush in her cheeks. Her hair was tucked underneath a white cap, however a few stray curls hung either side of her face. She wore the plain maid's uniform, however, Cassian appreciated how the apron fixed around her waist emphasised her fine figure.

She was truly an angel. Only angels were that beautiful.

"Oh, I am sorry to disturb you!" she cried bashfully. "They told me you were still in bed so it was alright to come in here."

It was the first time they had spoken in nearly a week. Cassian had not realised how accustomed he was already to hearing her voice. He missed it. "It is quite alright. I got up early," he assured her. "Please, do not let me disturb you."

"No, it is I who is disturbing you, sir. I will leave you be."

Cassian did not want Faith to address him so formally, but she was the one who was insisting. "No, please. I am half asleep anyway. I have ready the same line twenty times already."

Faith laughed lightly. Cassian grinned in response. He had made her laugh.

Faith placed the cleaning instruments down and closed his study door. She took a deep breath, suddenly very serious. "Mr Kensington, I have been meaning to seek an audience with you. Do you mind?"

Cassian frowned as he motioned Faith forward. She did not need to ask.

Faith walked over gracefully and stood before his desk. "I wanted to apologise to you."

Apologise? Cassian suddenly felt very annoyed with himself for not standing as she had entered the room. How rude of him. She was a lady. Cassian immediately stood up from his chair and walked around his desk. He was now standing some three feet from Faith. "Apologise for what?"

Faith appeared to be internally chastising herself. "For being so judgemental last week. It was not my place. I was terribly rude when you were being so kind to Lucy and me."

"You were not rude. You had an opinion." Her opinion on his possessions had irritated him, but it had not offended him. What had hurt was her questioning of his character. Did she still mean that?

"You are a good man. I can see that," Faith continued. "I know you are good. Your servants speak very highly of you. They respect you. As do your workers."

Was that his question answered?

"May I?" she asked, gesturing to the chairs before his desk. Cassian nodded, and they both sat down beside each other. Faith knitted her hands together and said, "I have a terrible habit of not being able to hold my tongue."

"One might attribute that to you being honest," replied Cassian.

Faith smiled gratefully. "It is not my business what you choose to do with your money, Mr Kensington. I only gave you a purse full of coins. You were the one who earned ... this!" she said, gesturing to the walls around them.

Cassian had worked hard to run his successful business. "I do not want you to doubt my character," he said softly.

Faith's brown eyes softened. "And I do not. That was cruel of me to question what sort of man you were. I barely know you. How could I say such a thing? I need to learn to hold my tongue," she scolded herself.

Cassian was glad that she suddenly seemed to have a good opinion of him. It was ... it truly was very important to him that she held him in high regard.

"You and I were born to very different worlds, I think."

That was likely true. "Where were you born?" he asked curiously. He now realised that he did not know very much about Faith Rowe. He really did not know anything at all.

"Gloucestershire," Faith replied. "I was born to very wealthy parents. My father, he owned the bank in our village. And six others."

Cassian was not at all surprised that Faith had been born to privilege.

"I suppose that is where my attitude about things comes from," she confessed. "My father would buy horses and art and my mother had a new dress every other week. Their things gave them status. Their things made them better than other people." Faith chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, before admitting, "The terrible thing is, I believe I was like that for a while, too."

Cassian had not been expecting to hear that.

"I learned the true definition of value the hard way, Mr Kensington." Faith's brown eyes became very glassy all of a sudden. "I paid a very high price for it." Faith's voice cracked and he could see that she was fighting back tears.

What had happened to her? What price had she paid?

Would it be inappropriate to put an arm around her? He did not know the proper way to behave! Cassian hurriedly pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocked and handed it to her.

Faith accepted it with a sad smile. She immediately wiped her eyes. "Oh, I am sorry. This is terribly embarrassing."

"There is no need to be," Cassian assured her worriedly. "What happened, if I may ask?" He immediately wished he had not asked the question. It was none of his business!

Faith did not speak for at least a minute. Cassian was certain she would get up and leave. All he want to do was wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly. She was his angel. He had a duty to protect her now. And she was hurting, and he did not know why.

Faith squeezed his handkerchief tightly before looking up to meet his eyes. "I had another baby before Lucy," she told him, her voice so quiet that he had almost missed what she had said.

But he had not. Faith had been mother to another baby. It was clear what had happened to the poor mite. Faith only had one child with her.

The loss of a child was the highest price to pay.

"A son," she continued. One of her hands rested on her stomach. Cassian was unsure if she was even aware of the action. "My son." Her lip trembled. She held out her hand and made a cup. "He fit in my hand. He was so little." Faith's hand was shaking.

Protocol be damned, he thought, as he seized her hand in his. He held her hand tightly in his, soothingly rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

Faith wiped her eyes again with the handkerchief.

Cassian stared at her, not knowing what the right thing to say was. How could he have been taking Faith around his home, boasting about his expensive pianoforte, when she had suffered so?

"You are an angel," Cassian said instinctively. "I do not know how you are still standing."

Faith laughed through her tears. "Oh, I do not know about that. But I do know why I am still standing." She smiled knowingly. "The little girl upstairs gives me my wings. And my little boy in heaven is looking after us both."

Cassian squeezed her hand. "Faith, I am truly sorry for your pain. Losing your son and your husband, I cannot imagine." Cassian wondered what had claimed her husband. He would not ask. He would not have Faith reliving two tragedies.

Faith smiled gratefully. "My judgemental opinion comes from a good place. It really does," she said sincerely. "So long as Lucy is healthy and we are safe, nothing else matters."

Cassian appreciated that. He really did. He understood that her child mattered to her more than any material possession. But Cassian had never really had someone to love like that. Someone to value over a possession. "I have never really had anybody, you see. What I valued growing up was possessions. What little money I could earn. What little food I had. The rare pile of hay I found to sleep on. Those were the things I valued."

"And there is a difference. Those things are essential. I just did not want you to value material things over what is truly important. People."

"I do not have any people," Cassian replied simply. "The paintings," he reminded her. "I collect faces, remember."

Faith was the one who was squeezing his hand now. It felt ... secure. "You will have people one day. You will have a wife one day, and children perhaps. They will be lucky to have you."

He felt lucky to have her confidence. He had never come close to courting, let alone marriage.

"But you must have had family once. Parents?" Faith inquired. "Brothers and sisters?"

"No siblings," Cassian replied, shaking his head.

"Me either," said Faith.

"I did have parents, though. A mother, a father, a home."

"Then what happened?" she asked curiously. "How did you become ..." she trailed off.

"A skinny, little street urchin?" he guessed, finishing her sentence.

Faith blushed. "More or less."

Cassian slouched in his chair. "I do not remember my father," he confessed. "He died when I was three. He was a blacksmith, and there was some sort of accident. My mother would never tell me what. But it took his life."

Faith silently listened.

"My mother tried her best." Cassian had very fond memories of his mother. He knew that she had made impossible sacrifices. "But my parents did not have much in the way of savings, and what little money we had quickly ran out." He sighed. "I was hungry. That is what I remember for much of my childhood. I remember being hungry all the time." Cassian was certain that he had whined to his poor mother about his hunger. He wished he had kept his mouth shut. "She was desperate. She had to have been. We were starving and she needed to feed us. She could not afford to take us to London where people might have been more willing to take on a widow." Cassian noticed Faith's shoulders tense a little. "And so she did the only thing she could. She ... she became a ... prostitute." Cassian pressed his lips together. He had never actually said that word out loud. Did he carry shame about what his mother had done? Cassian did not think so. But he knew others would. He searched Faith's face for a reaction. "I remember her wasting away really. She died when I was ten. I have been on my own ever since."

She was not shocked. She did not appear disgusted. She only smiled serenely. "What was her name?" Faith asked softly.

Cassian breathed a sigh of relief. "Emma," he replied. "Her name was Emma." Emma Kensington had been his mother, and he loved her.

"She loved you," Faith promised him. "Mothers will do anything to keep their children happy and safe. Believe me."

Cassian did believe her. "I have never told anyone about her before," he admitted.

"I have never told anyone about my son before," Faith counter confessed.

Cassian furrowed his eyebrows. "Not even your husband?"

Faith shook her head. "No ... he probably thought I was just tubby," she said flippantly. "I was nearing my fifth month. I was not yet ready to tell him. And I was too late in the end."

Tubby? How could a man not know when his own wife was pregnant? Cassian wondered what sort of marriage Faith and her husband had once had. She did not speak of him. She did not seem to mourn him. At least, not on the same level as her dear son. Perhaps she had been betrothed to someone rich. Her parents were rich. They must have wanted to expand their holdings through their son-in-law, especially if Faith was an only child.

After all, Faith had told him that she had once collected faces too. She had been lonely at some point.

Why did this nasty thought make him happy? It was wrong to hope that Faith had not been married in a love match. Either way, the man was dead. It was wrong to think ill of the dead.

"I ought to dust your study, Mr Kensington," Faith said suddenly. "I really should be finished by now."

Cassian rose from his chair. He did not like the idea of Faith cleaning around him while he sat looking at numbers. "Can I help?" he asked.

Faith's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Put me to work," he encouraged.

Faith grinned as she handed him a cloth.

Together, they dusted and wiped down every surface in Cassian's study. They continued to chat as they worked, and Cassian marvelled at how easy it was to engage in conversation with Faith when he was not trying so hard to impress her.

Faith did not need to be impressed. She was interested in what he had to say anyway. Just as he was interested in what she had to say. She claimed to have an issue with holding her tongue, but he enjoyed her honesty. He had never before spoken to a woman who spoke the truth like she did.

Cassian had never before had a person to care about. He had spent his life on his own. But he sensed things were changing.

As he watched Faith leave, throwing one final beautiful smile over her shoulder at him, Cassian knew that he had made a friend.