However, the only thing Edmund could see in his wife’s face was a pair of honest, glowing eyes.
"You are a good husband!" Primrose said enthusiastically. "I can confidently say you’re twice—no, ten times better than most married men in my homeland!"
There were plenty of romantic men where she came from. But sadly, many of them were also the type who clung tightly to old-fashioned ideas about marriage.
Some even believed their wives were nothing more than property, someone who had to obey them at all times, stay quiet, and always look beautiful just to be displayed like a decoration in their homes.
Sure, most women enjoyed taking care of themselves. But when it became a demand, constant expectation, something they once loved slowly turned into something they resented.
Worse, those men knew how to pretend. They could act sweet, say all the right words, just long enough to win a woman over and lock her into a marriage without love.
That was why Primrose’s father, the Duke of Illvaris, had rejected countless marriage proposals since her debutante.
Those men might’ve fooled other women, but Lazarus, a true gentleman, could always see through the act.
He could tell who was genuine and who was just wearing a mask.
"You’re praising me too much," Edmund said, shaking his head. "How could you compare me to them?"
In truth, it did sound like an insult when she was comparing Edmund to those rotten men.
But Primrose knew he wasn’t offended because of the comparison itself.
Actually, he genuinely believed he was worse than them.
"You’re right, husband," Primrose said with a serious look. "You can’t be compared to those bastards."
[Bastards?!] Edmund blinked. [If they’re bastards, then what does that make me? Trash? Worse than trash?]
Wasn’t it normal for someone to think they were better than people described as "bastards"? Why was he the one thinking the opposite?
Primrose had tried so many times to show him he wasn’t what he thought he was.
However, something that had been carved deeply into someone’s heart wasn’t easy to erase overnight.
She would need time and patience.
"Many men in my homeland treat their wives like they’re trash," Primrose added gently, deciding to give more context to help him understand her words.
"Some of my married friends even said their husbands won’t touch them, unless they want to have sex. Isn’t that heartbreaking?"
Edmund’s expression slowly twisted into something close to disgust. "How could they treat their wives so terribly?"
Even Edmund had suffered greatly when Primrose once forbade him from touching her for just a week.
Hence, he couldn’t understand those men at all.
"Because they’re bastards," Primrose said bluntly. "There’s no better explanation than that."
She moved closer to him, tilting her head with a soft smile. "That’s why I’m so grateful to have you. You’ve always treated me kindly. You always take care of me. That’s what a good husband is."
[Oh no ... maybe because the men in her homeland were such garbage, her standards are just really low ... and now she sees me, a man who’s just slightly better, as ’good’.]
No. That couldn’t be it.
Primrose had grown up beside the Duke of Illvaris, a man with a strong heart and gentle hands. He had been her example of what a real man should be.
If anything, her standards weren’t low. They were very high.
Edmund’s eyes widened just slightly, so subtle that Primrose almost didn’t notice.
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