SelfPub: We both doing wrong

It's wrong for both. Closing my eyes, I see the image of count de Bussy, and is the wife of imagine it in my bed, and all the passion which now gives me my husband Henry, just a figment of the fleeting love, which now he felt the stranger Victoria. And although now we're so good together - it's all a lie, how we feed each other in the hope to escape from the lust which has conquered us both.