Chapter Six

Martha let out a heavy sigh and surveyed herself in the looking glass. "This is all very well, Mama, but I do not see how a new gown and your finest pearls will make any gentleman consider me."

"We are not trying to force a gentleman to consider you," her mother countered, quickly, setting a hand on Martha's shoulder. "It is so that, whoever your father manages to find, when they come to survey you, they will see just how truly beautiful you are."

This, despite her own sense of frustration, made Martha smile and she settled a hand on top of her mother's. "You are very kind to me, Mama."

"I speak only as I find," Lady Hampshire countered, dropping a light kiss onto Martha's cheek. "You look very well, my dear. That light green gown brings out the colour of your eyes all the more."

Martha's smile grew. "Thank you, Mama. I am glad that they are so in kind with yours."

"I had to give you something of mine, did I not?" her mother laughed, standing straight again. "You have your father's red hair, do you not?"

"Though yours is not brown nor fair," Martha pointed out, knowing how much her mother refused to call her own hair red, even though it was now liberally streaked with grey.

"No, indeed. It is grey now," her mother laughed, making Martha chuckle as she rose from her chair, ready to make her way to the drawing room where they would wait for the carriage. "Come now, let us hope that this evening soiree will go well." She smiled at Martha. "Mayhap your new acquaintance Miss Stockton will be there."

"I hope she will be," Martha agreed.

"I am looking forward to it," Lady Hampshire sighed, contentedly. "It is quite something to have been invited!"

Martha considered this for a moment as they walked, reflecting on the fact that Lord and Lady Sutton had invited them to their soiree. These last few weeks, the invitations had been few and far between, though her mother had not seen anything troubling in that. Rather, she had been grateful for the invitations they had been given and her sense of gratitude had been a gentle lesson to Martha.

"Ah, there you both are." Lord Hampshire rushed towards both Martha and his wife as they came into the drawing room, his eyes bright with a light which Martha could not understand. They were merely going to a soiree and there was nothing to be expected from that, was there? She would be doing as she had done at every single event she had attended thus far; standing to the side or to the back of the room and alongside her mother, watching all those who walked by. Though, she considered, as her mother had suggested, Miss Stockton might be present and that would bring Martha a little more joy.

"Good evening, Papa," Martha replied, glancing to her mother who looked just as confused as she felt. "It is good to see you."

Her father chuckled and, much to Martha's astonishment, embraced her. "Ah, yes, I am well aware I have been absent of late."

"You were absent from breaking your fast and from dinner," Lady Hampshire reminded him, her voice a little tremulous as though she was deeply concerned about her husband's joviality. "And last evening, you did not tell us where you were to go."

Lord Hampshire's smile faded a little. "Yes, I am aware that I did not tell you, my dear, but that is because I did not want to upset you in any way. I was sure that you would beg of me not to do it, not to attend and therefore, I had no other choice but to keep it a secret from you."

"Then you were playing cards?" Martha asked, before she could stop herself. Her mother snatched in a breath and Martha flushed quickly, aware of her father's raised eyebrows. "I – I heard from Miss Stockton that her father was present, Lord Denley and given that you were absent, I thought… well, that is, I presumed that you had gone there."

Lord Hampshire nodded slowly. "Then you were correct, my dear, though Lord Denley was at the other table," he said, though Lady Hampshire immediately dropped her head in obvious dismay. "But there is nothing to be concerned about, I assure you. I had only a few coin and I went in the hope that it might, finally, be my turn to achieve some sort of success at the card table."

Lady Hampshire shook her head. "How could you?" she whispered, her eyes shining with tears. "After everything that we have endured, after all that your previous debts have put us through, then – "

"I went to try and redeem myself a little!" Lord Hampshire exclaimed, breaking into his wife's words. "I do not mean to upset you, that was never my intention, but I thought that good fortune might finally favour me, given that I have endured so much. I swear to you, however, I will never touch the card table again. I will never sit down at it, I will never set out coin ready for gambling or betting. That is my solemn word to you, my dear, and I swear it to you with nothing but truth in my heart and determination in my soul."

Martha felt her own heart squeeze as her mother sniffed, clearly still distraught over what her husband had just revealed. She looked away, not certain of her own emotions, struggling to understand why her father would be so reckless.

"But I have succeeded, my dear." Lord Hampshire turned towards Martha and, reaching out, gripped one of her hands. "I have succeeded far beyond my wildest expectations! That is why I can make you such a promise." He turned again to Lady Hampshire and, this time, took her hand in his own, releasing Martha. "Everything is taken care of. Martha has a future. A wonderful future, I am sure! I have found her a husband."

Martha's stomach flew upwards and then dropped low again, leaving her staring at her father's broad smile as ice rushed through her veins, freezing her in place. Her mother, on the other hand, let out a squeal of delight and took a step closer to her husband.

"You have?"

Lord Hampshire nodded. "I have," he beamed, as he drew himself up to his full height. "I have found her an excellent husband, for not only is he well titled, he is wealthy,too! He will be more than able to care for Martha."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Lady Hampshire cried, seemingly now completely forgetting all that had just gone before. "My dear husband, this is excellent news! I cannot believe that you have found someone so quickly! We have not been in London for long and now you say that you have secured her a match!"

Martha swallowed tightly, wishing that she too could feel even the smallest amount of exuberance rather than dread. She tried to speak but her lips trembled too much, her stomach lurching this way and that, making her fear she might cast up her accounts.

"His title, then?" Lady Hampshire asked, glancing at Martha as her expression quickly grew concerned. "Oh, Martha, you need not look so afraid. I am sure that your father has done exceedingly well in securing you a match. The gentleman is, as he has said, well titled and with a great fortune! That is wonderful, is it not?"

Martha managed a vague nod. "His title, Papa?" she asked, her voice quavering. "Who is he?"

"He is a Marquess," her father beamed, seemingly only answering her first question. "A Marquess, Martha! You will be a Marchioness, which is an even higher title than that of your own mother! That is quite wonderful, is it not?"

Wondering why her father had not given her his name as yet, Martha tilted her head, her fingers twining together in front of her. "That is, yes," she said slowly, as a flicker came into her father's eyes. "A Marquess who has great wealth does sound like a very suitable match. I am surprised that he has not married himself as yet." Seeing that flicker grow, a dreadful fear began to clutch at Martha's heart. "Is there a reason he is unwed, Papa?"

Lord Hampshire looked away. "Well, there may be, but that is not important."

"I do hope there is nothing wrong with him, my dear?" Lady Hampshire asked, looking to her husband with a frown beginning to draw itself across her face. "There is no cruelty in him?"

Lord Hampshire immediately shook his head, harrumphing as he did so. "Of course not, of course not, my dear! I would never engage my daughter to a cruel fellow."

Lady Hampshire visibly relaxed. "Of course you would not. I should have trusted you."

"Then what is his name, Papa?" Martha asked, her voice a little stronger now. "What is his title?"

Her father lifted his chin. "He is the Marquess of Granton."

It was as though Martha had thrown herself into the icy water of the Thames on a cold winter's day. She could not breathe, air sticking to her lungs, her whole body refusing to move even an inch. Her eyes flared wide as she saw her father smile, wondering how he could be pleased with such a match when he knew that he was marrying her to a scoundrel. She saw him in her mind's eye, recalling how he had laughed at her, how his eyes had narrowed when her mother had come to her defence. The cruel way in which he had thought to come to her in the first place, determined only to mock, made her heart cry out with shock and fear, finding herself shaking her head fervently.

"I cannot marry him, Papa. I cannot !"

Lord Hampshire's smile faded. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Do you know anything about this gentleman?" Lady Hampshire's smile had also fallen flat as she took a step back from her husband. "Lord Granton is certainly not at all suitable for Martha!"

"I do not understand. He has wealth and an excellent title and – "

"He is a rake!" Lady Hampshire's explosion of feeling threw itself right across the room and Martha sagged lightly with relief. Clearly, her mother understood her concerns and was doing the very same as Martha desired – stepping back from the proposal. "Lord Granton is the sort of gentleman that I have told Martha to stay away from. In fact, not long ago, I had to speak to him myself, to warn him away from our daughter's company! Why, then, would you encourage him towards her?"

Lord Hampshire frowned. "My dear, he is a Marquess."

"I understand that, Hampshire, but his character is greatly lacking. I will not have her – "

"I do not think that you have any right to tell me what I should or should not do as regards our daughter, Lady Hampshire."

The booming voice of her father, one which very rarely came to either her mother or to herself in such a manner, threw away all of Martha's hopes. She saw that her future was now settled and that her father, despite her own protestations, would not settle for anything but her marriage to Lord Granton. There was no chance of escape.

"I have found our daughter a suitable husband," Lord Hampshire continued, his eyes a little sharp. "I understand that you might have questions over his character but he will be able to not only provide for our daughter but will give her the chance to be highly titled amongst society. She will be a Marchioness! She will have the chance to have her own family, her own household!"

"And what of her happiness?" Lady Hampshire replied, gesturing to Martha. "Can you not see that this news has devastated her?"

Martha winced, seeing the pain which quickly tore through her father's expression. Evidently, he had been glad to have found Martha a match and now here she was, expressing discontent. Her fears were valid, of course, but neither did she want to downplay the significance of what he had done.

"Lord Granton is not the sort of gentleman who will bring Martha any sort of happiness, my dear," Lady Hampshire continued, her tone quiet but her gaze steady. "Did you not know anything about him before you made this arrangement? I cannot understand how it took place without your deliberate and intentional concern over his character."

The way Lord Hampshire dropped his head and then ran his fingers over his forehead made Martha's heart drop to the floor. She looked from her father to her mother and then back to her father again, her heart clamouring furiously. "You did not know anything about him, did you, Papa?"

Lord Hampshire glanced at her. "I knew enough."

"How did you make this arrangement, then?" Lady Hampshire asked, slowly. "What was it that you did?"

"Please," Martha whispered, feeling as though a rope was being tightened around her throat. "Please, Papa, tell me that you did not use me as part of your betting?"

When he did not refute that suggestion at once, tears began to pour into Martha's eyes and even though she blinked furiously, she could not stop one from falling to her cheek.

"You used our daughter as part of your betting ?" Lady Hampshire's voice was hoarse, her face turning pale. "You offered her up as part of the card game?"

"No, not in that way." Lord Hampshire sniffed and lifted his chin, though his gaze did not rest on either Martha or his wife. "I will say that yes, she was a part of the game but not in the way that you think." Perhaps seeing that neither Martha nor Lady Hampshire was about to remain contented with such a poor explanation, Lord Hampshire spread out his hands. "I placed a bet that stated that, should I lose, then I would give all of my winnings to Lord Granton. And should I win, then he would marry Martha. That is all there was to it."

Martha closed her eyes as fresh tears dripped down her cheeks. She had not been considered at all, then. Instead, she had been offered up as a bet, as though that was all she was worth.

"It is done," her father said, firmly. "You are going to marry the Marquess of Granton and that is the end of it. You shall have your family, your house, and your future, Martha. Those are good things and I do not want to hear anything other than acceptance of that."

"My dear, I… " Lady Hampshire fell silent, shaking her head as she considered. "I do not know what else to say. I will state again that I think this match is wrong for you but your father is right, in that you will have your future kept safe."

Martha opened her eyes, swaying just a little where she stood. She felt both weakness and fear, wishing that she could see even the smallest flicker of hope but finding that she could see nothing other than shadows. Lord Granton was not a gentleman she could even think to trust and now that she was to marry him, her future seemed shrouded in darkness.

"You are to now consider yourself engaged," Lord Hampshire continued, though his tone was a little softer now, holding more gentleness and tenderness as though he wanted to comfort her, even though he was the one who had arranged all of this. "The announcement will be made tonight."

Martha's head shot up. "Tonight?"

Her father nodded.

"But I am not ready, I am not prepared. I – "

"You are going to have to be." Her father came closer, put one hand on her shoulder and smiled down into her eyes. "You are going to be a Marchioness, Martha. What could be better?"

It was on the tip of Martha's tongue to say that spinsterhood seemed a good deal better than the prospect of marrying a gentleman such as Lord Granton but Martha did not dare say it. It would cause her father pain for her to say such a thing and she could not bring herself to say a single word. But as her father stepped back, urging them to the door and out to the carriage, Martha's heart broke completely. Her hopes for the future had been thin and vague indeed but even then, those had been things that she had longed for. Now, however, with her future holding nothing other than the cruel, arrogant face of Lord Granton, Martha could not find even the smallest flicker of anticipation or delight.

Everything was dark.