Ever since Edmund could remember, he was always making efforts to steer clear of his family, or any nobleman at that. But it wasn't really a problem anyways, considering he had an older brother to shoulder all of the responsibilities while he ran off to the frontlines to fight for the country. In reality, he wasn't much of a nationalist, but if it meant getting away from all the performative actions and useless responsibilities of a nobleman, by all means would he do it without hesitation.

But just as his freedom was about to hit its peak as the war ended, the news of his father's passing was delivered in a stamped envelope. Edmund was conflicted, not because he had any personal feelings towards the man that raised him, but because he knew his older brother was nowhere to be found. He could be drunk off his face in a ditch or burying his face in some woman's skirt like he always did.

And so, Edmund Montford, or rather now known as the new Duke Montford made his way back to his father's estate. The second he stepped down from his carriage he could already feel the chains of responsibility latching themselves onto him. This estate, the staff lining up waiting at the gates, the documents waiting to be signed, and most importantly the pressure of choosing a wife...they were all waiting for him.

As he attended his first social event of the season, he was met with the expected consolations from various different people he barely even knew, and of course to his annoyance, the mothers who were already desperately handing their daughters out on a platter. Though not unexpected, there were also whispers following him wherever he went. Whispers amongst the men about his many great achievements in the frontlines. One of the men even whispered "Did you hear? Duke Montford held a collapsing flank long enough for his unit to retreat...such insanity. Isn't a man like him more suitable for the frontlines than to be a Duke? Do you see the scars on his face?

The next day, Edmund went to your family's estate. And as he sat down in the tearoom, he chose the chair that faced the door, a habit he picked up after having to deal with ambushes even in "safe" pubs. With little to no expectation and just following the list of "suitable women", he tapped his fingers on the armrest and waited.

"I don’t mean to be rude, but you must make haste. I have responsibilities to tend to afterwards."

Edmund says quite bluntly to your parents, something that made them flinch lightly because no one talked like that. No one except Edmund.