"We are born with our father's names. We are not responsible for their failures. We are responsible for what they made us believe in. That is our only obligation. And it is even then a choice which we may sometimes be wise to ignore." Warren Eyster, The Goblins of Eros

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Chapter Ten

"The post, sir," murmured Mr Wade, "and today's newspaper."

Cassian could not help but laugh when he looked up at his butler. Mr Wade was holding a silver tray with the daily correspondence in one hand, and little Lucy Rowe in the other. Faith's toddler was sitting contently on his butler's hip.

Considering Mr Wade had been so reluctant to take on a housemaid with a child, he certainly had acclimated himself. In fact, he seemed oblivious to the fact that his behaviour was odd.

"A new friend, Wade?"

He only seemed to notice that he had Lucy with him when she started to play with one of his sideburns. "Oh," he chuckled. "Well, I needed the ladies to focus this morning and all of their attention seems to be on this one." Mr Wade could pretend all he liked, but Cassian could see fondness in his eyes. He had a soft spot for Lucy.

"Give her to me," instructed Cassian, rising from his chair and extending his arms. "All I have to do today is correspondence. I can look after her."

"Very good, sir."

Cassian accepted Lucy from Mr Wade and he held her close to his side to support her. She had a very curious look in her brown eyes. They so mirrored her mother's. Cassian had not really seen much of Lucy since she had arrived with Faith. Perhaps concealing her was Faith's way of ensuring that she would not be a bother to Cassian. But he did not mind.

If Lucy had managed to get Mr Wade onside then she was an angel.

"Do you remember my name?" Cassian asked her, sitting back down in his chair and sitting Lucy on his lap.

Lucy cocked her head, her sweet curls bouncing. "No."

Cassian smiled. He had only ever introduced himself once. "My name is Cassian," he told her again. "Your Mama is my friend."

"Cassian," she repeated. Lucy's attention quickly shifted to the papers that were strewn across his desk. Her little hand travelled over to a stock report and she lifted it up, pretending to read. "A story?" she asked, looking up at Cassian.

"A very dull one," he chuckled.

Lucy frowned, confused. "Read?" she persisted.

Cassian supposed he could have a go at turning his dull stock report into a story. He took the page from Lucy, who promptly grinned excitedly. He cleared his throat and began. "Once upon a time, there was a man named Gerald Hockley, who lived in a faraway land called Yorkshire. Mr Hockley had a very important job in Yorkshire. He looked after all the workers in the village. One day, Mr Hockley wrote a letter, a very important letter to his master. His name was Cassian."

Lucy gasped excitedly.

Cassian was bewildered. How was she finding this interesting? Nevertheless, he continued. "He wrote to Cassian telling him how many shipments of ..." cotton was not very interesting, "... fancy dresses were ready to be sent to ..." not manufacturers, "... Princess Lucy."

Lucy beamed. "Me?" she squealed.

Cassian relaxed a little. "Yes, you, Princess Lucy." He smiled. "There were ten fancy dresses ready to be sent. Blue ones, and pink ones, and all sorts. Princess Lucy needed the dresses for all the parties she was going to attend, after all, she now lives in London."

Lucy shifted herself on Cassian's lap so that she was standing up on his thighs. She was holding on to the collar of his shirt and her face was level with his. She looked so excited to be hearing his waffle of a story.

There was a look of youthful wonder in her brown eyes. Cassian had never seen anything like it.

"And one day, Princess Lucy met a handsome prince," Cassian continued. "The prince was very charming, and kind, and clever. Only the best for Princess Lucy."

Cassian was near hypnotised by Lucy. He had never before witnessed real childhood innocence. He had never been privy to it himself, and so this was completely foreign to him. Cassian felt compelled to protect this quality in her. Innocence was fleeting, and too often taken. Faith had done such a wonderful job to protect Lucy's. Cassian would help her.

"But Princess Lucy would not accept any old prince, no matter how charming. She decided she would stay with her mama and her new friend Cassian for a little while longer. The end."

Cassian discarded the stock report on his desk and leaned back in his chair, Lucy still standing up on him. The dead weight on his legs was slightly painful but he did not mind.

"Was that a nice story?" he asked, hopeful that he had turned a banal report into something interesting.

Lucy nodded. "Oh, yes," she said dreamily. "Again."

Cassian exhaled. Would he be able to recall what he had just said? Probably not. Instead, he picked up his cheque book and began to read about Princess Lucy and her horse, Sunshine.

Two hours later, Cassian had read Lucy half a dozen fantasy stories, and was now immersed in a game of dolls. He was sitting on the floor in his study, completely neglecting his work, mesmerised as Lucy played around him, making up a story in her broken toddler speech.

At midday, there was knock on the door.

"Yes?" Cassian called.

His study door opened and Faith entered carrying his lunch tray. Her brown eyes immediately softened at the sight before her. "Mr Wade told me she was in here. I hope she is not bothering you."

"On the contrary," Cassian countered, "Princess Lucy, here, has given me my next business idea. I am going to write children's stories. Apparently I have a gift for them," he teased.

"Princess?" Faith arched an eyebrow. "My, aren't you being spoiled, Lucy?"

Lucy trotted over to her mother and hugged her legs, just as Faith set the lunch tray down on the table.

"Lucy likes her stories. I wish I could buy more of them," Faith confessed.

"I could –" Cassian started but Faith interrupted him.

"That was not a request for charity," she said firmly. "Her birthday is in a few months. Then and only then," she instructed.

Cassian sighed, wishing it were not so difficult to help. "You know, Faith, there is grace in accepting charity. You are an angel. You deserve it."

Cassian could tell Faith did not agree with him as she changed the subject. "Thank you so much for entertaining her this morning, Mr Kensington. I do sincerely appreciate it. Everyone has been so kind to her," Faith said sincerely as she lifted Lucy up into her arms.

Cassian climbed to his feet and straitened his waist coat. "She really is an awful child. It was such a chore," he teased.

Faith laughed lightly. Cassian noticed a sudden change in Faith's facial expression as she chewed on her bottom lip nervously. "I ought to tell you something," she started nervously.

Cassian furrowed his eyebrows. "What?" he asked curiously.

Colour drained from Faith's cheeks. "You have been so kind to us, and you are such a good man, that I feel that I ought to tell you the truth," Faith stammered.

Cassian was starting to feel ill. What on earth was she worried about?

Faith's lips parted but no words escaped. After a few moments, she found her voice. "I ... I ought to tell you that ... I am not sure I like that painting." Panicked, she pointed to the painting he had purchased the day before of Mrs Forster's sister-in-law.

Cassian frowned. "Oh ... that is alright," he murmured. Why was she so nervous to tell him that? He did not mind. His taste in artwork was not to everyone's liking.

"Yes, well, I will leave you to your luncheon," she mumbled, scurrying from the study.

***

"Oh, you coward," Faith cursed herself. "You big, lying coward!"

Faith had been about to tell him, but the words tasted like ash on her tongue. Cassian thought of her as an angel. Angels were perfect. Faith was the farthest thing from perfect.

Faith was selfish and deceitful and there could be no redemption for her. She had gone too far.

She certainly did not deserve charity. Lucy, on the other hand, deserved everything. Faith felt guilty for denying her daughter the storybooks, but Faith felt as though she needed to be the one to provide, seeing as she was the one who had taken the away the life Lucy could have had.

Faith often thought of her niece, Olivia. She would be eleven now. She was the most gorgeous child, brought up with riches and fine things, yet she cared only for her books, and had a very clever head on her shoulders.

Lucy could have been just like her. By birth, she was Lady Lucy Pendleton. The daughter of an earl. Entitled to anything and everything.

But Faith only had to think of her son, her poor, lost son, to know that she could not have lived with the fear of the same thing happening to Lucy. She would not have survived that pain twice.

Just as she was about to open the door to descend to the kitchen, she heard her name being called.

"Faith!" cried Cassian.

Faith turned around to see Cassian standing in the doorway of his study.

His brow was furrowed and his dark eyes were fixed on her. My, he was handsome when he was concerned. "Are you alright?"

Faith nodded, but she was certain her facial expression resembled more of a grimace as she disappeared down the stairs.

Lucy, not surprisingly anymore, was taken by Mr Wade just as soon as she arrived downstairs for luncheon. She was grateful that the butler did not seem to mind Lucy anymore, and selfishly, she was hopeful that the attachment meant that there would be job security for her.

Faith smiled. Lucy seemed to like Mr Wade. She had a fistful of his collar as he sat down at the head of the table to eat.

Walking in on Cassian and Lucy had warmed her heart. Cassian was sitting on the floor, playing make-believe with Lucy. She could see it in his eyes; he was mesmerised. Cassian genuinely enjoyed playing whatever toddler babble Lucy was spouting and it brought tears of joy to her eyes just thinking about it.

Faith needed to quickly brush those away before anyone noticed.

Cassian was so good. He was the angel. There was a part of her, a very large part, which felt so drawn to him. Perhaps it was what had drawn her to him three years earlier. He was good, and kind, and warm, and safe.

She and Lucy were safe with Cassian.

Her husband could never have been the kind of father she Faith would have wanted for Lucy, but nevertheless, Faith had denied Lucy the right of a father. Whatever connection Lucy was developing with the gentlemen in this household, she hoped it could compensate.

***

"You alrigh' there, milady?"

Anne jumped, and quickly wiped her eyes with her lace handkerchief. She had not expected to be found by anyone here. She was hiding down by the lake. Their estate had such a pretty lake, surrounded by tall grass and wildflowers.

It was here, under a cluster of tall, red flowers, that she had buried her son a year ago. It was her secret. Nobody knew. Not even George. What would he do if he knew she had lost a son and heir? He would never accept that it was his fault that their boy had been lost. He had been so tiny; smaller than her palm.

And yet here she sat, with child again, and what was she to do? If she even looked at George the wrong way she was sentenced to a shove. That was all it had taken with her son. A shove, a trip, and a fall down the stairs.

Anne looked up at Mr Carne, their driver. He was an older, portly man, who loved his horses, and did not mind sitting atop fine carriages if it meant driving them.

"Oh, yes, I am fine," Anne lied. She climbed to her feet and brushed the dirt and pollen off of her skirt.

Mr Carne pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. "You've been cryin', milady," he stated.

Since when did men notice tears?

"The pollen," she murmured. "It itches my eyes."

"Did you know I got a daughter abou' your age, milady?" Mr Carne said casually. "Sian, she is. Do you know wha' I would do to any creature who laid an ill hand on her?"

Of course the servants knew. They were not blind.

"What would you do?" Anne asked powerlessly.

"I would string 'im up," Mr Carne growled. "Enough is enough, milady. You need to leave."

Anne's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"I am talkin' about leavin' that lout you are wed to and makin' a life for yourself elsewhere!"

"No!" exclaimed Anne. "You cannot understand." Instinctively, she placed a hand on her stomach. Mr Carne was obviously insane. Wives did not leave their husbands. Ever. And what of her child? What would she do? "George would never let me leave."

"Milady, I was not suggestin' that you ask the master's permission."