A hero who thinks women are there for their bodies and have nothing in their minds is fair enough in earlier times, especially if his character arc through the book has him changing his views. In this book not only does he not change but he plays the nastiest joke on the "love of his life". He persuades a friend to dress up as a priest and "marries" the unfortunate woman. Then he beds her, often,and only tells her about his betrayal when he decides the union is a mistake. Cardboard characters inhabit a badly written book - thank goodness Jane Austen, whom the author admires, is long dead. I am debating whether to give this to a charity shop - after all, someone might buy it, if only for 50 pence. And it wouldn't be worth nearly that much.