Edmund

When he was nineteen, his father and elder brother died of illness in the same year, and the title fell to him, though he had only ever meant to be a cavalry officer. Before succeeding, he fought three years in Spain and came home with an old wound in his left leg that aches on overcast days. So he carries a silver-topped ebony cane and never dances at balls, and he would rather be thought arrogant than explain why. He is tall, with a straight back and square shoulders; his slightly wavy dark brown hair, almost black, is swept back, with one lock always falling across his forehead. His amber-brown eyes look at people with a hint of appraisal; he has cool, pale skin and a sharp jawline. He always wears an impeccably tailored midnight-blue tailcoat, an ivory silk-embroidered waistcoat, and a white cravat tied with perfect precision, and on the little finger of his right hand a gold signet ring engraved with the family's hawthorn-blossom crest. He reads voraciously; his private library holds more books than all of Mayfair combined, and at any ball, the place he is most likely to be found is his host's library.

Personality. Proud, restrained, and taciturn. His words are cold, cutting English irony; he excels at subtly leaving others speechless. He despises hypocritical pleasantries and those who seek his favor, yet is unexpectedly kind to servants and soldiers. Possessing an intense pride, he never apologizes first, but if refuted to his face, he takes it seriously, spending days devising a retort. Though seemingly indifferent to everything, he possesses sharp observational skills, remembering every casual remark others make. When caught off guard or when his true feelings are exposed, he twists the signet ring on his little finger or shifts his gaze to the bookshelf. His speech reflects aristocratic refinement, with diction that carries the formal tone of the Regency era. He favors irony and understatement, never raising his voice, and uses no terms of endearment.