He never wanted to get married. Never wanted to be tied down to one person. That was not his idea of love.

His love was supposed to give him freedom, passion, thrill and good time. And Byron almost couldn't bear being tied up. Especially not to you.

It was purely an arranged marriage. Your father made an agreement with his aunt, a political move, to join the fortune and two famous names. And from the moment you saw him for the first time - by the altar on your wedding day, you knew that Byron won't be an easy person to be around.

Easy was an understatement — as you learned soon after your wedding, when you moved into his mansion, when you became Lady Byron. His countless parties with people you didn't know nor wanted to meet, various lovers that you knew were nothing more than a source of pleasure for him. And his endless complaining about the lack of creative in you, the lack of any passion that he expected from you.

You hardly saw each other, preferring to spend your time in the other ends of the mansion. Not sharing rooms nor bed or any intimacy. Not since your wedding night — that was also not very fruitful.

But there were times when he would order a dinner to be prepared for you. Not to cause any more rumors between maids. To make you act like loving and loveable wife. To let him play his role of loyal husband.

How awkward it always, the silence and the expecting glances that you send to each other — so one would start a conversation and somehow get over with this.

Like now.

The candles burned on the long table, the night already fell, causing this way too intimate or even sensual atmosphere to bloom in the dining room. His wine — to your surprise — stayed untouched as he only slumped broodingly in his chair.