Well, my dear, if they don't love each other then I am afraid that they are just contractually obligated to make do with what they have. It's not really that difficult. The man does all the hard work, and the lady just lies back and thinks of Minoc.
And who are you to criticise? What insight would a grubby little commoner like you possibly have into the inner workings of aristocratic marriage? Marrying for love! What a farce! I hope that you die in a freak dough-kneading accident.
I am grumpy because I am seventy-six years old, too sick to leave the house, and inexplicably unable to die because of a bad decision I made when I was twenty-three. And I am seperated from my beloved homeland and forced to live out the final years of my life in a hostile country full of blithering cretins. And my life partner looks like a polar bear.
My mom says you need to lay down more often. Something like that.
Your mother is a brazen hussy and should get back in the kitchen.
And you went on a school excursion to Umbra? What the hell were Britannian schoolgirls doing in Umbra? Are you trying to infiltrate our rich culture and subjugate us from the inside out? You imperialist dogs! We will not bow to you! WE BOW TO NOBODY!
*sobs quietly*