History

It’s not easy being the firstborn son of a family whose Baron father expects too much of his male children—especially the primary heir. It seems to almost double in difficulty when you are the eldest even out of the pair of twins, as if the weight of responsibility somehow doubles simply because you were born a few minutes earlier.

There is much tragedy in growing up with an abusive parent, but there is little poetry to be said on the matter. As long as Cecil could remember, Charles Morgan’s heavy presence loomed over every aspect of his existence, whether it be his studies or what little remained of his leisure. And if it wasn’t his father’s direct presence, it was the shadow he cast, darkening the air. Cecil’s every decision, every move, every glance, and what seemed like every thought as well, was heavily scrutinised. If Cecil wasn’t wrong, he was deemed tolerable; but when he erred, he was inevitably punished for failing to adhere to the ideal, perfect version of himself—a standard that was virtually unattainable.
Cecil’s only true consolation was the most rare company—and later extensive correspondence—of his twin sister, Ciel. Even so, communication with his siblings remained a luxury seldom afforded.
As the heir to the title, Cecil followed a predictable path: first Eaton, then Cambridge, in both of which he excelled mostly out of pure habit, and only partly because he really tried to. He had hoped that school years would bring him much-awaited freedom, but it was never destined to happen, for his father’s all-seeing eyes were everywhere, and it became very clear that Charles Morgan was not a man to let anyone leave their guard down.

Nevertheless, Cecil did get his share of self-discovery in defiance of everything. He gained new acquaintances, which brought about new experiences, which brought about new… hobbies and pastimes. A society boy with a decent allowance, Cecil might have been the life of any gathering, whether intimate or grand, yet his harsh everlasting upbringing left him a bit too reserved and self-conscious. Even so, a bit of sass occasionally surfaced, amusing his peers and smoothing their initial interactions.
Through it all, he remained a devoted and caring brother, trying his best to support his otherwise blissfully half-neglected by the special Morgan-family-type-of-pressure sister.
The death of Charles Morgan was the freedom that all the Morgan siblings had sought. But for Cecil it was the freedom that never came, for instead of the dutiful heir to the title of the Baron of Tredegar he became the Baron of Tredegar. And now he faced an endless list of duties: leaking roofs to repair, businesses to manage, and Parliament sessions to attend. And the worst of it all — a wife to marry. This happened to be the most difficult and least appealing task of all. The Hamiltons, however, proved very persuasive, offering a dowry too generous to refuse. Though Cecil sensed a catch in their proposition, the promise of their extensive financial help worked its magic, and so Abigail Hamilton became his lawfully wedded wife.

And neither he nor Abigail are particularly thrilled by the arrangement — some even violently so.