"If you love somebody enough

You follow them wherever they go

That's how I got to Memphis." Tom T. Hall

----

Chapter Thirteen

Faith did not have to say the words, but Cassian knew her answer just by looking into her regretful eyes. She did not want to marry him. The proposal had come as a complete shock to her. She had no romantic feelings towards Cassian at all.

Cassian felt utterly humiliated.

Worst of all, he felt completely heartbroken.

It had taken Faith walking back into his life for Cassian to realise that he never wanted her to walk out of it again. How many times does one encounter an angel?

It had not taken Cassian long to hold Faith far above anyone else in his acquaintance. Perhaps he had been slightly infatuated, hypnotised by her beauty, but it had never occurred to him to think that Faith might not share his regard.

Cassian knew that was arrogant, but surely there had to be some romantic feelings inside of her? All those afternoons spent with Lucy, he and Faith had shared such blissful exchanges. It was almost like they were a little family.

But clearly he had imagined it. Cassian had just offered Faith the opportunity to step back into the world she had previously known, with a husband that would vow to look after her and her daughter for ever, not just until his death as her previous husband had. Cassian would love her, and he would love Lucy as though she was his own. Anything her heart desired would be hers in an instant.

But Faith had refused. Her good heart would not allow her to say the words, but Faith had no desire to become Cassian's wife.

But then why would she want to? Cassian knew that Faith did not value money or things. She had shown him this from the very beginning of their renewed acquaintance. Faith valued humility, kindness, and selflessness. Cassian knew that he was not good enough for Faith. He liked to think himself a kind man, but he could be as selfish, materialistic, and vain as the next man with money to burn.

Cassian felt such a surreal pain, concentrated right in the middle of his chest. It was as though a giant hole had formed where his heart had once been. This hole was filled with agonising emotions such as despondency, hopelessness, and misery.

With just the look of rejection in her eyes, Faith had all but ripped his heart out with her own tiny hand.

This pain was more real than any other pain Cassian had ever experienced. He had experienced starvation, the utter feeling of his stomach caving in on itself, but it did not hold a candle to the burning agony he felt in his chest.

If this pain told him anything, it was just how deeply his angel had infiltrated his heart and soul. This was love, it had to be, and if he was honest, he would rather feel this pain and be reminded of Faith, then to not feel anything at all.

Love.

Cassian had never known it. Not in the real romantic sense. He had been loved by his mother, and he had loved her in return, but he had never known true, passionate, fervent, longing, defenceless love.

The isolation in which Cassian had grown up had all but sealed his fate. He had been destined to die as a young man who had barely lived. He would never know friendship, or family, or love. Perhaps the way he had grown up, despite his wealth now, would always hold him back from securing those things for himself.

What a joke. He now had all the money in the world to buy things, but what he truly needed was just beyond his reach.

She would be gone. Cassian knew that to be true. Now that he had made an utter fool of himself, Faith would pack her things and take Lucy, never to be seen again. He hated himself for speaking so zealously. He had driven away the only person who had ever shown him genuine friendship.

Cassian was unsure of how he wound up at the club. His feet had carried him there from the church. He wondered if it was some mortal sin to be gambling and drinking on a Sunday, but in truth, after his third whiskey, he did not care.

Cassian had entered into a game with a table of gentlemen he did not know. It was not Tuesday, and so his usual party were elsewhere. He was playing with the other sad London folk who had nothing better to do on a Sunday then throw away their money and drink to their sorrows.

At the bottom of his sixth, or perhaps seventh, whiskey glass, Cassian was starting to see double. He could not coherently speak, nor was he sure of what cards he was holding. Before he could make any grave mistakes, he was pulled away from the game by a mysterious hand.

There was a sweet scent that was suddenly permeating the air around him, which was masking the stink of alcohol on his breath. "Fanny?" he slurred.

Fanny giggled. "Can you not see me, Mr Kensington?"

Cassian endeavoured to focus his blurry eyesight on the blonde woman in front of him. "I ... I think I need spectacles."

Fanny giggled again. "I think you need to leave the whiskey alone, Mr Kensington. I have never seen you indulge so." Cassian felt Fanny wrap a comforting arm around his waist as she led him away from the smoking room. Cassian managed to stay upright despite his stumbling feet. Before he knew it, Fanny was sitting him down on a soft surface.

A bed. His eyes fluttered shut at the thought of it. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep and forget this day ever happened.

"Oh, no you don't, Mr Kensington. What will Madame say if you suffocate on your own sick in this room? You stay awake now, you hear?" Fanny ordered, before thrusting water at him.

Cassian drank, although the water did not have the comforting burn that whiskey did. "Did I not give you the money to get out of this place, Fanny?" Cassian mumbled grumpily.

Cassian's vision was still distorted, but he could see a distinct sad frown on Fanny's face. "Your kind gift went directly to my father's creditors," she replied. "He is imprisoned in the Marshalsea, Mr Kensington. He owes three hundred pounds. So no, I cannot get out of this place anytime soon."

The Marshalsea. Drunk as he was, Cassian knew the debtor's prison. Filled to the brim with starving inmates who suffered if they could not afford to pay their prison fees. If Cassian could coherently remember this conversation in the morning, he would send three hundred pounds to the Marshalsea for Fanny's father.

"Why are you here, Mr Kensington? I noticed you were not here with your particular circle last Tuesday."

"She doesn't want me. Doesn't love me," he muttered.

"Who?" Fanny pressed.

"Faith."

"Who is Faith?"

"An angel."

"An angel?"

Cassian nodded, a spluttered through a pathetic, tearless sob as his head fell on to Fanny's chest as though he were a child seeking comfort. Fanny immediately enveloped him in a hug. "Proposed," he slurred. "Said no."

"Oh, dear," said Fanny. Before Cassian knew it, he could feel Fanny's lips on his person. In his hair, on his forehead, his cheeks, his neck, and finally his lips. Between kisses she was telling him how she would make him feel better.

Cassian closed his eyes, but he did not feel as relaxed as he was a moment ago. Every fibre of his being was telling his alcohol distorted mind to leave. This was not right. The gaping hole in his chest was screaming at him, telling him he was being unfaithful.

"She said no," Cassian told his conscience. "I can do what I please."

"Who are you talking to?" Fanny ask breathlessly.

"No one," Cassian murmured as he seized Fanny's face in his hands and crushed his lips to hers. It did not take Fanny long to climb on top of him to start unbuttoning his shirt.

The feeling on her cold fingertips on his skin brought him back to earth, or at least back to the room he was in. He was laying down on a bed with a woman who was nor Faith. Rejection or not, how could he ever look her in the eye again if he did this?

"No!" he cried.

The volume of his voice startled Fanny so much that she quickly climbed off the bed. "Are you alright?"

"No." Cassian shook his head. "No, this will not help. I don't want this. I want her. I want only her."

"But she doesn't want you?" Fanny's words were not said with malice. If anything, she sounded as though she was concerned.

The gaping hole filled with agony was going to constantly remind Cassian of this face. "She would never have me like this."

***

"Who the bloody hell is ringing that bell?" Cassian groaned.

Cassian's eyes fluttered open. It took him a moment for his eyes to focus, but he realised he was at home in his bedroom. How had he gotten home? The last thing he remembered was vaguely talking to Fanny.

There had been a lot of whiskey consumed. He remembered playing cards. He remembered Fanny pulling him away. Why was Fanny there? Had he not given her money to leave? That thought sparked a memory of the Marshalsea. Debtor's prison. He needed to rectify that. Cassian thought hard, though it hurt his pounding hear, to recall vivid memories of him kissing Fanny. But it had not gone any further.

His conscience demanded his fidelity to a woman who had rejected him.

But the rest was gone. He truly wondered how he had gotten home. Had Mr Green fetched him?

Cassian climbed out of bed, and promptly tripped over his own breeches, which were still gathered around his ankles. Clearly he had failed dismally at undressing himself the night before.

He needed water. Cassian kicked off his breeches and walked over to his basin. Thankfully, the pitcher was filled with water. He poured the water into his basin and began to wash his face. Cassian nearly had a heart palpitation when the water began to turn red. Was he bleeding? He looked at his reflection in his small mirror above the basin and saw that there were red marks covering his face, neck, and collar. Fanny's lip paint.

Cassian smirked as he washed away the evidence of his drunken stupidity.

Once Cassian finished cleaning his face, he dressed. He collected a clean pair of breeches from the wardrobe, and selected a fresh shirt. Once dressed, Cassian collected his discarded clothing from the night before off of the floor. As he lifted his waist coat into his arms, something small fell from the pocket.

Cassian's eyes settled on the small diamond ring, which stood out against the plain rug on his floor. The pain he had forgotten about for the briefest of moments had all but sucked the air out of his lungs.

Cassian picked up the ring and threw it in his drawer, slamming it shut all too aggressively.

Cassian left his bedroom before his breakfast had been brought up. He would have it in his study, where he would remain for the day.

He wondered if Faith would still bring Lucy to him. The thought of Faith keeping Lucy away from him frightened him more that he thought it would.

Just as he turned the corner towards his study, he saw Faith leaving it. Faith cleaned his study in the afternoon, so that she could spent time with Lucy and Cassian, or so Cassian believed.

Dusting before eight o'clock in the morning meant that she was endeavouring to avoid him.

Faith noticed him immediately, and as soon as her brown eyes met his, that aching agony that he was becoming accustomed to reared its ugly head.

But this time, Faith did not look at him with sympathy or regret. She looked at him with contempt. She was angry at him. Cassian stopped in his tracks as Faith stormed away from him, not even bothering to talk to him, or to make nice with him.

Why was she angry? Had his proposal offended her so? "Right," he mumbled. "Enough of this." He would not sit around in his house, feeling like he did, while Faith had the audacity to be angry at him.

No. Cassian had been putting off a trip to his northern factories. Perhaps it was best he left for a while.