That wasn’t the case with Milly. She had opinions, well-formed ones, and he rather liked knowing that his wife wouldn’t be some foolish creature obsessed with gossip and the latest Parisian fashions. Not that Milly didn’t look exceedingly fine and had excellent taste in clothes. He’d be the first to admit she was stunning. When she’d entered the church that morning, he’d forgotten to breathe, and only when she’d gotten closer to him, he’d realized his lungs were burning and he’d sucked in a breath. He wanted to laugh at himself, and at this entire situation. He’d ended up with the most beautiful wife a man could hope for, one with a quick wit and intelligence and lips made for kissing, and yet she despised him. That bothered him more than it should have; even though he was seeking a bride
