Prologue

Martha yawned as she came into the dining room, finding herself happily contented as she sat down, ready to break her fast. The door opened before she had even had a chance to pour the tea and, with a warm smile, her mother came into the room to join her.

"It was a wonderful day yesterday, was it not?" she asked, coming to sit down beside Martha, who then poured them both a cup of tea knowing how much her mother appreciated a cup in the mornings. "Though Jane was a little tardy, which was a trifle frustrating."

Martha laughed and pressed her mother's hand for a moment. "I do not think that the Earl minded that in the least bit, Mama," she said, recalling the way that the Earl of Nottingham had turned to look at Jane as she had come into the church, ready to make her way to his side. "Did you not see how warmly he smiled, how much love was there in his eyes?" Letting out a soft sigh, Martha cradled the cup of tea in her hands, her elbows on the table in what, in company, would have been a most improper posture. "I think their marriage was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen."

Lady Hampshire smiled gently. "Yes, it was. I have always hoped that my children would marry someone who cared for them in the same way that I have come to care for your father." Her head tilted. "Your brother is already wed and settled and now your sister! Which means that I can now focus all my attention upon you."

A gentle flush rose in Martha's cheeks. "Thank you, Mama."

"I know it has been a little difficult for you, remaining in your sister's shadow as we prepared for the wedding, but that is over now. This time next year, I am very hopeful that I will have the joy of seeing you married – and to a gentleman who cares for you too."

"I am hopeful of the very same thing," Martha answered, speaking truthfully. "I have been glad for my brother and my sister, of course, but my heart has always been hopeful that there would be someone for me too. I should very much like to marry a gentleman who has some affection for me and for whom I feel the same way. I have seen how much you and father care for one another and I want that very same thing within my own life."

"And I am sure you shall have it." Lady Hampshire took a sip of her tea. "Though it shall have to wait a few months still! The Season does not begin again until a little later this year. Your father, however, has already made plans for our return, with the sole aim of securing your future." Setting the cup down, she reached for the teapot to pour herself a second cup. "He is just as committed to that as I am."

"That is good to know," Martha answered, smiling. "I am glad that – "

The door flew open, stopping her sentence midway through. Blinking in surprise, Martha gazed at her father as he stood, framed in the doorway.

Something was wrong.

"Hampshire?" Lady Hampshire turned in her chair, looking over at her husband. "Is there something wrong? Why do you not come to take tea with us?"

"Ruined!"

Martha snatched in a breath, her eyes flaring wide.

"I am ruined, my dear!" Lord Hampshire came staggering into the room, looking as though he would collapse at any moment. Somehow, he made his way to the chair beside his wife and half sat, half fell into it. His eyes were wide and staring, his face puce, his hand reaching out to grasp his wife's hand. "We shall survive, of course, but only barely. However am I to – "

"I do not know what you mean." Lady Hampshire's voice was a little raised, a slight tremble running through it as Martha stared at them both, trying to understand what was going on. All that her mother had spoken about only a few minutes ago began to evaporate before her eyes, rushing away from her like smoke.

"I am ruined," the Earl whispered, closing his eyes now, seeming to sink back even more into his chair. "Our investments are now at the bottom of the sea."

Lady Hampshire gasped and Martha's heart slammed into her chest, making her breath hitch.

"I was foolish," the Earl admitted, brokenly. "I did not tell you for it is a gentleman's prerogative to gamble and to enjoy such things without hesitation, but the debts I owe are substantial… and now… "

"And now you cannot pay them because of the failure of your investments," Martha whispered, as her father opened his eyes to look at her. "Is that what you mean?"

After a moment, he nodded.

"But what… what about my dowry?" Martha asked, her eyes wide now, panic beginning to take a hold. "What about – "

"Your dowry will go to pay some of my debts, Martha," her father interrupted, speaking with a desperation which Martha felt break through to her very soul. "I cannot help that. I am sorry but it is the only way I can salvage my reputation even a little. I – I am afraid that it will not pay for all my debts, however, and since I put a great deal of money into these investments, investments which have now turned to dust, there will be very little left for us to live on." He took in a shuddering breath, closing his eyes again. "Over the next few years, we must pray that the crops grow well and that some of my other, smaller investments give us a greater return but we will have to economise." Opening his eyes again, he looked straight into his wife's face. "We must economise. There is no other choice, otherwise this estate and everything we own will crumble around us."

"But… what about my future?" Martha asked, her voice now hoarse and rattling. "Mama and I were just talking and – "

Her father held up one hand to her, his palm out flat, bringing a sudden end to her questioning. "I am sorry, Martha."

Martha began to blink back furious, hot tears which sprang to her eyes as she understood exactly what her father was saying, albeit without him saying a single word. There was to be no future for her, no happiness, no joy with a gentleman who came to care for her. All that her mother had spoken of, all the hope she herself had felt was now gone in an instant.

"Oh, Hampshire, how could you have done such a thing?" There was a note of sadness and of rebuke in Lady Hampshire's voice and though she spoke quietly, the amount of pain which crossed Lord Hampshire's face was not insignificant. "You did not tell me any of this."

"I did not," the Earl admitted, brokenly. "Mayhap I should have done but I was ashamed of my gambling debts. I knew what you would say and I could not bring myself to speak to you of them."

Martha dropped her head and squeezed her eyes closed as her mother spoke again, telling her husband how much she wished he had been honest with her. Her whole world suddenly grew dark, great shadows passing over it as she fought to find even the smallest chink of light.

But there was none.