But those who reject Faith after they accepted it, and then go on adding to their defiance of Faith, – never will their repentance be accepted; for they are those who have gone astray.
~ Quran 3:90
The Duchess had only returned to her townhouse, after leaving her son in Harrow for the remainder of the year. The boy crossed the gates unwillingly; afraid it might happen yet another tragedy, such as the one taking place only a week after the last time he performed this ritual.
It had been quite a surprise, and quite sad, for the ducal family to lose its head so suddenly, just on the turn of the fall season.
In parts, that is. Like in any family, its members feel loss differently, depending on who the deceased was, and whether you ask them in public or in private.
For instance, it had not been so hard for the oldest daughters, Madeleine, Pauline and Eleanor. No, they were girls, and as such, they were disappointments and a waste of resources in the eyes of their late father. Not to mention, old enough to have learned to let go of the dogma of paternal infallibility. In retrospect, it was less of a loss than it was a release of their burden.
Not the same could be said of young George. A boy and heir, first term on his boarding school and immensely dotted upon his father, he felt the loss the hardest. His mother had consented for him to spend the first few months after the passing with her and his two sisters at the family estate in Wiltshire, but the period of closed mourning was now over and back he went to school.
Speaking of the widow, well, she was remarkably composed for the situation. You must notice her infamous cold-blooded demeanour, which allowed her to administer and thrive her late father's lands, and the fact that the rule of thumb at the time was still marriages for convenience. However, even taking into account the prior, she seemed calm during the ordeal.
It is to be expected, if we are to be honest. One is often unsurprised when their victim on an assassination plot comes to pass, after all. In fact, the remarkable thing is for the widow not to show satisfaction instead of grief.
As of now, the Duchess was finally alone for the first time in several months, and is finally allowed to gloat, to giggle happily about a job well performed. She walks to the liquor cabinet and pours herself a stiff drink.
Toasting to no one in particular, she downs the glass merrily. With a content sight, she sits down at her husband's prized armchair and contemplates her newfound freedom.
The world was her oyster, now.
She was not left to her own company for long, though. Soon after, a footman knocked on her door and announced the arrival of a visitor, who waits on the parlour room. Predicting who it was, she informed the servant she would be receiving them in the study.
"Your Grace!" A man's voice comes from the doorstep a few minutes later. "A sight to sore eyes. You grow even more beautiful as the time goes by!"
The woman giggles. "Prince Hamid. Always the flatterer, I see."
"You wound me, milady." He clutches his chest in mockery. "How can you not know my high opinion for you comes from the depths of my heart and the clearest judgement a man can have?"
"I am sure you say the same to the daughter of the Russian ambassador, but I pay no mind." She smiles softly at him.
The Turkish nobleman grinned in response. "I may wander to other beds, but rest assured my heart beats only for you. In fact, I came to offer you my deepest condolences for the passing of your husband. He was a good man, and we are all desolate to see him go."
The woman scoffs. "No, he was not."
"De mortuis nil nisi bonum." He shrugs. "I find it a stupid custom of the British, but as a diplomat, I learned to comply with many stupid things."
"It might as well be, but even the British find to be in poor taste to praise the dead when you helped procure the poison that ultimately killed them." The Duchess points out, a tone of ennui on her voice as she lounges comfortably on her cushioned armchair. "My many thanks for this service, notwithstanding."
"It is my pleasure to help such a preeminent lady of society." He smiles, wicked and flirtatious. "However, if Your Grace finds in her heart to offer a reward to her humblest, most devoted servant, a kiss would be greatly appreciated."
The Englishwoman laughs and beckons him to join her at a small fainting couch on the side of the room.
"How can I deny you, your highness?" She says, while caressing the side of his face, where a dense, dark beard grew. "Especially when what you ask of me is something I deeply want to do, too."
"Let us restrain ourselves no more, milady. Let us act on the desires we feel for one another." He says with a husky voice, eyes shining in lust.
They close the distance between them, the lady's hand on the man's scalp, pressing his face closer to hers, all on the while his hands gave her support to sit on his lap.
At that moment, the woman noted with some amusement how glad the Middle Eastern man was about visiting her that afternoon.
Without separating, Hamid unbuttons the back of the Duchess' mourning dress, dextrously manoeuvring through the intricate design of the clothes. The woman was no less enthusiastic, unfastening and removing the diplomat's setre, the top jacket of Turkish traditional wear.
With Hamid bare-chested, copper skin covered with a moderate, flattering amount of body hair exposed, they broke their kiss and stood from the fainting couch.
Once on foot, the prince hugs the duchess from behind, trailing kisses on the exposed neck and shoulders, both hands squeezing softly the still firm, generously sized breasts. She throws her head backwards as an act of delight, but also to offer the man easier access.
His hands softly trail down her stomach and uterus, finally reaching the lower half of her clothing. Using the same adroitness, the man was able to rid her quickly of the offending pieces of fabric.
Now completely on the nude, the Duchess turns to face her lover, one hand holding his trousers and the other resting on top of his heart. Piercing him with her fiery eyes, she says, "You may wander, my prince, to hop in every bed here to Constantinople, but remember you do under my blessing. You are my lover and mine alone."
"Yours and yours alone." He smirked and kissed her lips softly. "Now, allow me to worship you properly."
He leads her back into a sitting position on the fainting couch and then kneels in front of her. Gently tearing her legs apart, he kisses the inner part of her right thigh before leaning further ahead to use his folded tongue to stimulate her clitoris.
She moans in pleasure, secure on the study walls' discretion, rolling her eyes with the sensation. The broad shoulders of the Ottoman prince supported her failing legs, while her fingers knotted on his hair, prompting him to go further.
Not soon later, she reaches her thunderous orgasm.
"Tasty." The Turkish man comments, teasingly. "I suppose you would like to go on?"
The woman chuckles, exasperated. "Just do it, Hamid."
"As milady commands." He says, lowering his trousers and letting his long and thick member roam free.
The Prince takes his time into penetrating the woman, going inch by inch and allowing her to accommodate the sizeable organ.
In time, he picks up the pace, bringing her upper body into a sitting position, her breasts pressing against his chest. Finally, she pushes him to the ground, where she rides his member to both of their orgasms.
Afterwards, they both lay together at the carpeted floor, the Duchess nested on Hamid's arms.
"Do you ever wonder about the past?" He suddenly asks.
"Not often." She responds, dismissively. "I try not to dwell too much on things that cannot be changed. Why you ask?"
He sighed. "I suppose it is the effect of the Duke's passing. The little I cared for the man, and it is very little, I cannot help but wonder what if you had married me instead."
"If you wanted me to marry you, it would had helped if you proposed instead of picking up and leaving for Constantinople." She points out, factually.
The man could not help but chuckle at the bluntness. "I admit that oversight of mine."
"Do not look to the past, Hamid." She advises. "Not when the future looks this bright."
"I suppose you are right." He smiles and kisses her again. "May I stay here for a while?"
"You may stay for as long as you wish."