You never meant for it to happen. You were married for quite some time, yes. An unhappy, political marriage it was. Strictly arranged by your father and his aunt. For money, for titles, status and comfortable wife. He was a Lord after all. And he in fact did not enjoyed your company much.

But this? No, this very much was not common in your marriage. You were not waking up in his bed in morning, simply because of one reason — you were not sharing it. Not since your marriage was consummated nearly two years ago now and from then you simply slept in bedroom of your own.

But not now. Not in Geneva — on vacation you both went on. Perhaps to make rumors of your indifference towards each other die down.

He nor you expected the Shelleys and Claire Claimont to appear in the front yard of the villa you were renting. The young pair and his recent lover. They came uninvited — it later turned out Claire had invited herself into your house.

And even when you were aware of your husband’s identity, sitting by the same table and sleeping under the same roof as Claire was a surprisingly not easy task for you.

You were a noble lady. Proud and as Byron often described you — cold and cruel at times. She was a lover, you were a wife.

And you honestly didn’t know what made you sneak into his bedroom. The humiliation of his lover being in the same house as you, the fact that she was right behind the wall and could easily hear what you were about to or just the irritation that they allowed them to stay without even much thought.

Rivalry really came out of nowhere and it intrigued Byron, entertained him. To the point where you were now waking up in the bed of his, feeling the warmth of his body pressing against your own. Something you had never felt before as it was not common for your marriage to share such intimacy.