Royal Exposure: A Prince's Secret

The rain hammered against the stained-glass windows of the west wing, mirroring the tempest brewing within Prince Michael’s chest. Dutchess Roseshould have returned days ago, a diplomatic mission to Ireland and Scotland stretching far beyond its scheduled duration. The castle felt vast and empty without her, the opulent tapestries and priceless artifacts failing to soothe the ache in his soul. He rose from his bed, the silk sheets clinging to his bare skin, and made his way to the large, arched window overlooking the sprawling estate. The damp air carried the scent of rain and pine, a melancholic perfume that only intensified his longing.

A sharp rap at the door jolted him from his reverie. “Yes?” he bellowed, not bothering to turn. The familiarity of the sound offered a small comfort in the oppressive silence.

“It’s Martha, my lord,” came the gravelly voice, instantly recognizable.

Martha, the head housekeeper, had been a fixture in the castle since before Michael’s birth. She’d witnessed his infancy, overseen his awkward adolescence, and now, served as a silent, unwavering presence in his life. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a shared history woven into the very fabric of the castle walls. He finally turned, finding her standing just inside the doorway, her face etched with wrinkles and a lifetime of service. She wore a simple, dark dress, her gray hair pulled back in a severe bun. Despite her age, there was a steely glint in her eyes, a hint of defiance that belied her gentle demeanor.

“Martha, nice of you to drop by,” Michael said, trying to mask his impatience. “What is it?”

“Just bringing your breakfast, your lordship,” she replied, her gaze unwavering. “And a word of warning.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A warning? About what?”

“Your wife,” she said, her voice low and serious. “She’s not just returning on a diplomatic mission. There's been some unrest, some whispers about a clandestine rendezvous. Something involving a foreign nobleman. It's quite scandalous, your lordship.”

Michael felt a cold dread grip his heart. Rose, the epitome of grace and innocence, entangled in a scandalous affair? The thought was almost unbearable. He paced the length of the room, his hands clenched into fists. “Do you know anything more? Who is this nobleman? What did they do?”

“Only that they met in secret, away from prying eyes,” Martha replied, her voice hushed. “And that they shared a rather passionate encounter, judging by the rumors. I overheard some of the maids gossiping about it, of course. They say it was quite a memorable event, full of lust and pleasure.”

Michael stopped pacing, his mind racing. The implications of this revelation were staggering. Not only was his beloved wife betraying his trust, but she was doing so with another man. The sheer audacity of it all sent a wave of fury through him. He needed to know everything, to understand the full extent of this betrayal.

“Find out more, Martha,” he commanded, his voice hardening. “Every detail. I want to know where they met, who they are, and how long this has been going on. And then, perhaps, I’ll decide what to do.”

“As you wish, your lordship,” Martha replied, bowing her head slightly. “Consider it done.”

As Martha turned to leave, Michael couldn’t resist a final, desperate plea. “Martha, one more thing. Do you think she’ll forgive me?”

Martha paused at the doorway, her eyes meeting his for a fleeting moment. “That, your lordship, is entirely up to her.” And with that, she was gone, leaving Michael alone with his thoughts and his simmering rage.

He turned back to the window, staring out at the rain-swept landscape. The image of Rose flashed through his mind, her radiant smile, her gentle touch. The memory was both a comfort and a torment. He longed for her return, but now, he feared that she might never truly be his again.

As he continued to contemplate the situation, he felt a strange heat rising within him, a primal urge that he had long suppressed. The thought of satisfying his own desires, of indulging in the pleasure that Rose had denied him, became increasingly insistent. He returned to his chambers, stripping off his clothes and exposing his naked body to the cool air. He walked to the large bed, the silken sheets beckoning him. As he lay down, his body tensed, anticipating the release that he craved.

He began to stroke his erect cock, his muscles clenching with anticipation. The thought of Rose, her scent, her touch, filled his mind, fueling his desire. The rain continued to fall, providing a soothing soundtrack to his rising arousal. Soon, he was hard, his body trembling with the force of his pleasure. He closed his eyes, surrendering to the overwhelming urge, letting his mind wander back to the night before Rose left.

The memory of their passionate encounter replayed in his mind, each touch, each kiss, each moan sending shivers down his spine. He recalled the feeling of her body against his, the intoxicating scent of her perfume, the taste of her lips on his skin. It was a moment of pure bliss, a connection that transcended all earthly concerns. Now, that memory was tainted by the knowledge of her betrayal.

As he continued to pump his cock, a wave of frustration washed over him. He wanted to feel the same pleasure, to experience the same ecstasy, but now, it was tainted by the bitterness of his heartbreak. He pushed himself further, ignoring the pain, clinging desperately to the fleeting moments of satisfaction.

Suddenly, a loud knock echoed through the castle. Michael groaned, his body convulsing in response. He knew exactly who it was. It was Martha, returning with the latest updates on Rose's clandestine affair. He reluctantly rose from the bed, pulling on his trousers as he made his way to the door.

Martha stood in the hallway, her expression grim. “Your lordship, I’ve gathered some more information. It seems that the nobleman in question is Lord Valerius, a notorious libertine from France. He’s known for his lavish parties and his collection of beautiful women. Apparently, he’s quite fond of taking young men under his wing.”

Michael’s jaw clenched in fury. Lord Valerius, a name synonymous with debauchery and decadence. The thought of Rose sharing her bed with such a depraved individual was almost unbearable.

“And what else have you discovered?” he demanded, his voice low and menacing.

“Rose didn’t just have a one-night stand with Lord Valerius, your lordship,” Martha said, her voice laced with shock. “She’s been seeing him for weeks. They’ve been meeting secretly in a hidden chamber within the castle walls. It’s quite a scandalous revelation, your lordship.”

Michael felt a surge of anger, hot and uncontrollable. He grabbed Martha by the arm, pulling her towards the fireplace. “Show me this chamber, Martha. Show me where they’ve been committing this unholy act.”

Martha hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly led him through the maze of corridors and hidden passages that lay beneath the castle. Finally, they arrived at a heavy oak door concealed behind a tapestry. With a key in her hand, Martha unlocked the door, revealing a lavishly decorated room filled with plush furniture, crystal chandeliers, and a large, four-poster bed. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and illicit pleasure.

As they stepped inside, Michael’s eyes fell upon a small, velvet cushion where Rose had been lying. The sight of her abandoned bed, the remnants of their passionate encounter, ignited a fresh wave of fury within him. He roared in frustration, a primal sound of anguish and betrayal. He felt a strange desire to rip the room apart, to destroy everything that reminded him of Rose’s infidelity. But he restrained himself, knowing that such an act would only serve to confirm his own depravity.

Instead, he turned to Martha, his eyes blazing with hatred. “Let’s find out where they’ve been hiding,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “Let’s uncover every detail of this sordid affair.”

And so, they began their investigation, scouring the hidden chamber for clues, searching for any trace of Lord Valerius and his illicit activities. As they delved deeper into the secret room, Michael discovered a hidden panel in the wall. He pushed it open, revealing a small, private alcove. Inside, he found a pile of love letters from Lord Valerius to Rose, filled with passionate declarations of love and promises of eternal devotion. The letters were addressed in elegant script, their words dripping with desire and longing.

As Michael read the letters aloud, his anger intensified. He realized the depth of Rose’s betrayal, the extent of her infatuation with Lord Valerius. The thought of her willingly engaging in such a debauched affair with another man filled him with disgust and revulsion. He couldn’t comprehend how she could have fallen so far from grace, how she could have abandoned him for a man who embodied everything he despised.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed through the castle. Michael turned to see Rose standing in the doorway, her face pale and distraught. She had followed him, sensing his fury and knowing that he was on the verge of discovering her secret.

“Michael,” she said, her voice trembling. “Please, don’t do this. It’s not what it looks like.”

Michael stared at her, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that she was innocent, that she was merely trying to protect herself. The evidence was overwhelming, the letters undeniable.

“It is what it looks like, Rose,” he said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. “You’ve betrayed me, you’ve shattered my trust, and you’ve destroyed our love. There’s no excuse for your actions.”

Rose burst into tears, pleading with him to spare her, to forgive her. But Michael remained unmoved, his gaze unwavering. He knew that their marriage was over, that their love was lost forever.

As the rain continued to fall outside, Michael made his decision. He would not seek revenge, not in the traditional sense. Instead, he would take the most satisfying form of retribution imaginable. With a cruel smile, he turned to Rose, his eyes filled with a dark and twisted satisfaction. "Let's indulge in a little pleasure, shall we?"

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