"The right thing to do and the hard thing to do are usually the same." Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free.

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Chapter Eighteen

"Is it really you, Aunt Anne?" asked Olivia again.

Faith wanted to say something, anything, to convince Olivia that she was not the aunt that she remembered, that she was a stranger, someone who merely looked like her aunt.

But all Faith could manage was to stare at the twelve year old girl with her mouth open.

Faith could feel herself going into shock. Her mouth was completely dry. She could feel the blood draining from her face. Her heartbeat was erratic.

Faith could see what was going to happen. Olivia was going to tattle to her mother. Ruth would ensure that George found out the truth. The biggest scandal of the century would erupt across Britain and George would be humiliated.

Worst of all, Lucy would be discovered by the father that Faith had never wanted her to know.

What would happen to Lucy when George killed Faith?

Before Faith could find her voice and beg Olivia to keep her mouth shut, she heard and all too familiar voice.

"Oh, Olivia, for goodness' sake. If you took your nose out of that hideous political nonsense for one moment and actually looked where you were going –" Ruth Pendleton stopped just as soon as she noticed who Olivia had knocked into.

Ruth Pendleton had not changed one bit since Faith had last seen her. She was just as severe and as proper as ever. Her face had always been very thin and angular, which made her disapproving expressions all the more unsettling. Unlike Olivia's loose waves, Ruth's red hair was fixed just so. Intricate curls were visible below her lacy, expensive bonnet. She, too, wore a fine white overcoat, protecting her royal blue gown from the weather.

Ruth's blue eyes widened as she gasped. "Anne?"

"Ruth," said Faith, finally finding her voice.

Ruth shook her head. "I do not understand. How is this possible?"

A figure past Ruth and Olivia caught Faith's attention. It was Cassian. He was standing with Lucy, nonchalantly outside the apothecary. She said a silent prayer in thanks for his quick thinking. Cassian had removed Lucy from any danger of being associated with Faith. It was exactly what Faith would have done.

"You are supposed to be dead," Ruth said slowly, though her eyes were still wide with shock.

Knowing that Lucy was away from danger made Faith relax a little. "I am dead," replied Faith.

Ruth scoffed. "Do not insult my intelligence. You are standing here before me. Flesh and blood. I can see it!"

"Ruth, you must stay quiet," pleaded Faith. "As far as anyone is concerned, I am dead. I died in that carriage accident and that is how it must stay." Faith looked down at Olivia, who had since righted herself and collected her book. Faith squinted as she read the title: Declaration of the Rights of Woman and of the Female Citizen. It was written in French. "And you, too, Olivia."

Ruth's eyes flared. "You will not involve my daughter in this sickening affair. Where is he then?" she demanded to know. Her head immediately turned around, surveying the immediate area.

Faith's heart stopped as Ruth looked directly at Cassian, but she did not seem to take any notice of him. Faith was thankful that Cassian was entertaining Lucy, and so Lucy was not looking after her mother. "Where is who?" Faith lied coolly.

"Your lover!" she said accusingly. "You must have run off with a lover."

"I did not such thing," snapped Faith. "You know exactly why I made myself disappear. You only pretended not to notice."

"Oh, hush," spat Ruth. Ruth seized Faith's wrist and pulled her inside the milliner's shop. Olivia quickly followed. "I will not air dirty family laundry on the streets of London. You never know who is listening." Ruth glared at the milliner's who sat behind their craft tables stitching lace and all sorts onto the bonnets of rich women. "Be off with you!" she ordered.

The two workers quickly abandoned the stations and run up the stairs at the back of the shop.

Ruth paced the small length of the shop, moving between the two craft tables. "Yes, I knew. Of course I knew," she admitted gruffly. "Everyone did. You were such a sour girl. Everyone knew of your unhappiness." Ruth sucked in a deep breath. "How did this not occur to me?" She sighed.

"So you understand my decision?"

Fire returned to Ruth's ice cold eyes. "Understand?" she repeated. "Of course I do not understand, you selfish, selfish girl!" she seethed.

Faith was taken aback. Even Olivia flinched away from her mother. Faith would never tell Ruth as to why her decision was completely unselfish. That reason was safe in the arms of the man she loved.

"Did you ever imagine the sort of effect that your decision would have on the Earl?" Ruth asked accusingly.

Faith tensed. "I am sure he had his half a dozen whores to comfort him," she retorted. Immediately she regretted her choice of words in present company. "Excuse me, Olivia," she apologised.

"He was heartbroken," emphasised Ruth.

Faith had a hard time believing that.

"It took him nearly two months to find another bride," Ruth continued. "That is how forlorn he was."

Faith resisted laughing. Two months? He must have been terribly upset in between bedfellows.

"You are lucky that the engagement fell through or else you would have made a bigamist out of the Earl!" she cried.

Faith had never really given any thought to George remarrying. He was allowed to. Faith was legally dead.

"You are returning to Leicestershire with Olivia and myself today. This charade will not continue."

Faith took a step back, only to bump into the craft table. She shook her head determinedly. "Ruth, I am living an honest life in London." Relatively. "I cannot go back to Leicestershire," Faith insisted. "More than my body was beaten and bruised in that house."

Ruth held up her hand to stop Faith. "You are the one who married the man, Anne," she replied. "You are married. That is not something than can be undone."

Olivia cleared her throat awkwardly. "Actually, you could apply to parliament for a divorce," she informed them. Both Faith and Ruth turned to look at Olivia, clearly dumbfounded. "It is difficult and costly, but Uncle George has the money, and it would not be hard to find witnesses of adultery, combined with your accusations of cruelty, Aunt Anne."

"I will pretend that that filthy word did not just come out of your mouth, young lady," growled Ruth. Ruth glared at the book in Olivia's hands. "That is going in the first flame we come across."

Olivia's grip tightened on her novel as her blue eyes narrowed. Faith could quickly tell that Olivia Pendleton knew her own mind.

Despite her good intentions, Faith knew that divorce would never be an option for her. Divorce was scandalous business and was never entered into by the aristocracy.

"Anne, the way I see it, you have two options. The first," Ruth began, "is to leave this shop and carry on with whatever life you have created for yourself here, while I inform our circle of your whereabouts and you are shrouded in scandal and humiliation."

Faith wanted nothing more than to run out of the milliner's and directly over to Cassian and Lucy. But she knew if Ruth returned home with this story then there would be a witch hunt for her. They would find her. People with money always got what they wanted. Connections would be made. Mr Carne would be interrogated. Her alias would be discovered, and Lucy could be discovered.

Ruth pursed her lips and her eyes narrowed. "Can you imagine, Anne? Can you imagine the utter humiliation that the Earl will endure? Scandals outlive and outlast us all. Perhaps it will outlive you a little faster," she hinted.

If she was dead, then Lucy would be at the mercy of George. No, that was not an option for her.

"Or," Ruth continued, "you can return with us now and I will tell everyone that I happened upon you in a London hospital suffering from memory loss. All will be as it was, and none will be the wiser."

Faith felt herself trembling at the thought of returning to what was once her home in Leicestershire. She felt sheer and utter panic at the thought of being once more at the mercy of her husband.

But her decision was an easy one. Which would keep Lucy safe?

Faith knew that Cassian would protect Lucy. Lucy might not even miss her mother what with her friends in Cassian's home. That thought broke her heart. The whole notion of leaving Lucy behind broke Faith's heart.

But Lucy's life, and her happiness, were more important than Faith's. It was a selfless nature one acquired when one became a mother.

"Just look at you, Anne," remarked Ruth distastefully, as she gestured to Faith's attire. "What are you wearing? Come to your senses. Just think of what you could be wearing as the Countess of Runthorpe."

Faith's eyes narrowed. "I care not for such things," she said flatly.

"Well, you always were of a haughtier disposition," muttered Ruth. "Anne Rowe, the darling of society."

Faith knew that Ruth's bitterness resided in the fact that she had married the second son, the clergyman, and Faith had wed the Earl. Ruth could not understand how lucky she truly was.

"I will go back with you," Faith informed Ruth emotionlessly.

Ruth smiled, triumphant. "I am glad you have made the right decision, Anne. All will be as it was."

That was what Faith was afraid of.

"Do not fret. I shall tell everyone that you were only injured in the carriage accident, and that you lost your memories. Perhaps you might act slightly simple when we return," Ruth suggested.

"I need to write a letter," Faith insisted. "I need to inform the matron that I will no longer be requiring living arrangements," she lied. She needed to beg of Cassian the biggest of favours. She needed him to raise her daughter.

It took all of Faith's strength not to break down sobbing at the thought of her child being brought up by someone that was not her. When would Faith see Lucy again? Would she see Lucy again?

"Do it quickly," snapped Ruth. "I hate London in winter. But thanks to Olivia, a trip to London was necessary." Ruth glared at her daughter.

Faith frowned as Olivia looked away guiltily. "I gave away all my bonnets," she confessed. "I have no need of such silly bonnets anyway, Mama," Olivia insisted. "What need to I have for a bonnet? It is not as though I am out in a field and needing protection from the sun."

Ruth huffed angrily, and snatched the book from Olivia's hand and tossed it over her shoulder. Olivia cried as it landed on the floor some ten feet away. "Out," she ordered, smacking Olivia in the centre of her back. "Write your letter. We will be waiting."

Faith began to cry and she hurried to collect Olivia's book and tucked it inside her cloak. The enormity of what was happening was overwhelming her. How had she gone from celebrating Lucy's third birthday with such wonderful people to making the decision to return to hell on earth?

Faith wiped her eyes with her sleeves and noticed several scraps of parchment on the craft tables. The milliners were using them to sketch designs. Faith immediately seized a fresh piece and a quill and began to scrawl.

Faith was effectively signing away her child. She felt as though she was losing Lucy, even though she was saving her. It brought on memories of such immeasurable grief. How could she survive feeling this way once again?

"Hello?" she called once she had finished writing. "Hello there?"

Faith heard movement as the milliners returned to their shop. They appeared very uneasy.

"I am so sorry for interrupting your day," Faith said sincerely, sniffing through her tears.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" asked one.

"Was that woman horrible to you?" asked the other. "She is horrible to her poor daughter."

"Aye, she is," agreed the first.

"No, no," Faith lied. "But please, I beg of you one small favour," she pleaded. "I need this letter delivered to a man outside the apothecary. He has dark, curly hair, and is holding a small girl. Could one of you please take this to him?"

"Yes, I will take it," volunteered the milliner.

Faith breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. For Mr Kensington," she instructed.

"We will see that he gets it, miss."

***

"When will Mama be back?" asked Lucy for the tenth time.

Cassian watched as the older, redheaded woman summoned a carriage. She pulled on the arm of her young daughter, and pushed her inside. Faith had not emerged from the milliner's, but Cassian dared not approach.

Those people knew Faith, or rather, they knew Anne. Cassian had realised it the moment the young girl's eyes had found Faith, even before she had called Faith by her former name.

Cassian had immediately wanted to pull Faith away. To hide her. To keep her safe and away from these people she had run away from. But he knew that Faith's concern would only be for Lucy, which is why he had immediately removed her from Faith's side.

Cassian prayed that Faith would be able to talk her way out of this. He prayed that these people were sympathetic, and would understand Faith's reasons for fleeing from her husband.

From the sour look on the woman's face, Cassian was not optimistic. But they had left the milliner's without Faith. In a few moments, the carriage would away, and Cassian would storm that shop and take her into his arms.

"I want Mama!" Lucy said impatiently.

Cassian looked down at the little girl in his arms for the briefest of moments before his eyes went back to the shop door. Lucy was frowning, her chocolate brown eyes staring at him accusingly, as if he were the reason she could not be with her mother.

"Lucy, what colour are my eyes?" Cassian asked.

It was a little game that Cassian had thought up a few weeks ago when he had been teaching Kit to read numbers and colours. Lucy felt included, and she also learned something.

"Black!" she cried excitedly, her mood suddenly improved.

Cassian kept watch. "And how many ears do I have?"

Cassian felt Lucy's hands on his ears. "One," she counted. "Two."

"What colour is your hair?"

Lucy clapped her hands on her head. "Brown!"

"What colour is Kit's hair?"

"Yellow!" They had not quite achieved 'blond' yet.

"How many noses to I have?"

Lucy's hand flew to Cassian's nose. "One!"

"What colour –"

At that moment, Faith emerged from the milliner's. She looked awful. Her eyes were red, her mouth was downturned, and her head was low. She did not look up at him or Lucy, but he watched as her hand nearest to them outstretched and waved for a split second.

Cassian's heart stopped as Faith climbed into the carriage after the redheaded mother and daughter. "No," he gasped. "What are you doing? Where are you going?"

The carriage moved away and Cassian and Lucy were left standing in the street. Cassian stared after her, his mouth open, utterly shocked.

"Are you Mr Kensington?"

It took Cassian a moment to realise that someone was standing before him. He looked down at the woman. She was about fifty or so, wearing dark, practical clothing.

He could only nod.

"This is for you." She held out a letter to him. It was not sealed.

"Thank you," he murmured, readjusting Lucy on his hip so that he could flip open the letter.

Cassian, wrote Faith.

The woman is my sister-in-law, Ruth Pendleton, and her daughter, Olivia.

I have to go back. It is my only choice. If I do not, then George will find me, and then he will discover Lucy. I have to go back to protect her.

I need you to look after her for me. I need you to raise her. I need you to love her. I need you to tell her every day that Mama loves her and longs for her.

I know this is such a terribly selfish request, and that I am giving you no choice. It is utterly unfair of me, but I pray you will not resent me for this.

I do not know when I will be able to write again. I do not know if I will ever see you again.

Know that meeting you changed my life, Cassian Kensington. You are extraordinary.

I love you.

Faith.

The letter was tear stained. Faith and Cassian's tears were indistinguishable. Cassian could not hold them back. Whatever was said, whatever had gone on in that shop had convinced Faith that she had no other choice but to return to a monster.

Her request was a given. Lucy would always be safe with him. Of course he would love her. He loved the little girl already. She had every member of his household wrapped around her tiny, little finger.

At that moment, Faith was on her way back to a man who had beaten her, whose cruelty had caused the death of her unborn son. What would he do to her when he had his hands on her again? He would kill Faith. Cassian was absolutely certain of it.

Cassian had been a poor, poverty stricken man all his life, and yet he had never felt more powerless than he did in this moment.

He looked down at Lucy, who stared up at him with her mother's trusting brown eyes. But what could he do? Faith was married to the man. She could not fake her death twice.

Cassian had a sudden thought. An idea that just might work.

"Man, are you capable of being fair? A woman is asking: at least you will allow her that right. Tell me? What gave you the sovereign right to oppress my sex?"