Gideon felt ill too. A brain disorder. When had his life gone out of control? Although really, that was as hyperbolic as anything Miss Drury might say. He had near-perfect control over most aspects. True, he hadn’t meant to ask Lady Edith to marry him when he paid a visit. But she looked elegant. Beautifully dressed, quiet with a natural reserve, she represented all of the things he longed for. That graceful restraint from the passionate—and she wore her good breeding easily, along with her fine sense of which behavior fit any situation. If she’d been a man, she’d have been a diplomat—never a politician, though unlike her brother, she had the brains for it. She was far too cool and self-contained to push herself forward. During his visit, he’d told Lady Edith she would be the perfect choice for any man who wanted to advance in the world. He’d said it only as a compliment, but she’d understood it as more.
