“I suppose I can see about some of my things.” Aelin mused, flipping the card in her fingers. “He’s invited us to my home, after all.” 

“This is your home,” Rowan countered. Aelin raised a single brow, but said nothing to disagree with his statement. 

“I’d like to visit the club today.” Aelin said, changing the subject. “I know the house manager well enough and I’m sure he’s done a wonderful job, but I want to throw out any of Arobynn’s men.” 

“We can certainly visit the club,” Rowan agreed, glancing at the clock on the mantle. “So long as we arrive prior to the night crowds, that’s fine.” 

Aelin’s hackles rose instantly. “And what is the matter with the night crowds?” 

Rowan scoffed. “Drunk men out on the town? You think I’d let you walk the halls of the club around that kind of patronage?” 

“Let me?” Aelin started furiously, but Rowan cut across her smoothly.

“There are things that I’d know better than you, and one of those is how men behave when they’re in their cups with women around.” 

“My father let me spend time in the club when I was a child.” 

“Let it be known, then, that Rhoe Galathynius and I disagree on at least one thing. In any case, the men who worked there all worked for your father, and had for years. You were basically one of their own and I’m sure they protected you as such. I don’t trust anyone there around my wife until I’m satisfied they’re not Arobynn’s men and have honorable intentions.” 

“How very saint-like of you.” Aelin spit, resisting the urge to smack him. “I’ll remind you, again, that I am myself before I am your wife, you pompous ass.” She strode to the door, pausing in the doorframe. “I’ll be ready to depart in ten minutes. I will expect the carriage ready for us, your Grace.” 

Rowan raised his eyes skyward as his wife exited the room. He glanced once at the clock before sighing loudly. It was going to be a long day. 

* 

“That’s my cousin’s carriage,” Aelin remarked as she and Rowan reached the front of the club. “What on earth is he doing here?” 

“No idea,” Rowan said under his breath, though he was fairly sure that young, hot-headed Aedion Ashryver had been at the club since the previous evening. 

Their driver pulled open the door, raising a hand to help Aelin down from the carriage. She landed lightly on the graveled walkway, holding a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun. Rowan stepped down from the carriage, his eyes drawn to the light reflecting off of her blonde hair. As she turned to him, the sun caught her eyes and he nearly lost his breath. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Your eyes are beautiful.” The words tumbled from Rowan’s mouth before he could stop them. Pink tinged Aelin’s cheeks before she shook her head firmly. 

“You shouldn’t compliment a wife who sleeps down the hall.” Without waiting for him to respond she flounced away, leaving Rowan in her wake, grinding his teeth. He followed her the short distance to the door, jogging ahead so he could pull it open for her. 

“Who are you?” A rough voice asked, and Rowan stepped quickly into the room. Before he could open his mouth, though, Aelin had already spoken. 

“Aelin Gala - er, Whitethorn. Duchess of Wendlyn. Owner of this club. Who are you?” 

Rowan choked down his laugh as the man sketched a clumsy bow. “Your grace,” he said quickly. “We didn’t expect you so soon -“ 

“It’s no matter,” Aelin waved her hand. “We’ll be in my father’s office.” 

Rowan resisted the urge to grasp her arm at the way her voice shook on ‘father’. It hadn’t been long since the Galathynius’s deaths. 

As Aelin walked into the main room, her eyes followed the sound of voices. Rowan turned to look, his gaze falling on Aedion Ashryver. He was alone in the main room, save a woman in green.

“-if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times, your grace, there is no place for me with you!” 

“Damn it all, damn society, damn my peers, I don’t care, I just want to marry you!”

“You! A duke! Marry a common whore?” 

“Don’t call yourself that -“ 

“It’s what I am, your grace - “ 

“Aedion, for the love of God, I love you, call me -“ 

“Devil take you Aedion Ashryver, I’ll never forgive you for saying that to me again.” 

“Lysandra - “ 

“Are we…interrupting?” Rowan asked smoothly. Aelin smacked him on the chest as Aedion and the dark haired woman turned toward them. “What?” He asked and she rolled her eyes. 

“I was listening to that exchange before you so rudely interrupted.” 

“Aelin.” Aedion acknowledged. He glanced at the woman next to him. “This is Lysandra, I’m going to marry her.” 

“Wonderful news, cousin, I can’t recommend marriage enough.” Aelin said. Rowan raised a brow. Her statement was dripping with sarcasm. 

The woman’s eyes flicked between Aelin and Rowan. Before she could speak, Rowan stepped forward. “Good morning, miss. I’m Rowan, this is my wife Aelin. She’s of a relation with him,” Rowan paused to nod toward Aedion. “She also owns this club.” 

Realizing who she was speaking to, Lysandra dropped into a curtsey. “Wonderful to meet you both, your graces. I apologize for the mockery my companion has made of us all this morning.” 

“Please, no apologies. I’ve been dealing with him for years.” Aelin said warmly, grasping her wrists to bring her to her feet. “I do hate to inform you, though, that he often gets exactly what he wants. It’s absolutely infuriating.” 

“I will,” Aedion said firmly. Aelin was delighted to see the woman roll her eyes. 

“For a fee.” 

“Fine.” Aedion countered. “What’s mine is yours. Or will be.”

“I could shoot him if you want.” Rowan offered. Aelin choked down a laugh. 

“Lysandra, is it?” She asked, to which the other woman nodded. “Wonderful to meet you. I was just heading up to my father’s office, would you like to accompany me? We can ring for tea.” 

Lysandra nodded again, glancing once at Aedion before following Aelin toward the stairs. They passed the first hallway in companionable silence, but Lysandra spoke as they rounded the corner. 

“I am sorry for the…display.” 

Aelin glanced at her frankly. “My cousin is a hot-headed man but he is not foolish. If he says he wishes to marry you, why should you refuse?” 

“I’m a…well. I used to work here in the evenings.” 

“And how long have you been with my cousin?” 

Lysandra’s face colored as they reached the door of Aelin’s father’s office. “A year.” 

“A year!” Aelin exclaimed, holding the door open to allow her to enter ahead. “And he’s…kept you well?” 

“He has. A townhome around the corner from him.” 

“So you’re his mistress, then.” Lysandra nodded, and Aelin continued. “Well, then. Men have married their mistresses. It’s not so scandalous.” 

“It’s who I was before that makes me wish Aed - I mean, his grace, would drop this madness.” 

“Please, call him Aedion. It’s his name. These formalities - call me Aelin as well. As we’re going to be cousins in law, we should be on a first name basis.” 

“Begging your pardon, but I won’t marry him.” 

“Then,” Aelin sighed, as she let her eyes drift around the office. “I suppose we shall just have to be friends on our own.” 

Lysandra opened her mouth as though to argue, but closed it again shortly. “I am sorry about the loss of your parents.” 

Aelin inclined her head. “I appreciate it.” 

“A woman owning a club.” Lysandra mused, watching Aelin tug on the bell pull. “It’s not done.” 

“No,” Aelin agreed. “But my husband agreed that I would retain ownership, and he’d run the establishment. Considering that he didn’t even want me to stop by here in the evenings, I can’t imagine I’ll be here too often to see it run.” 

“Men at that hour, deep in their cups? Not an atmosphere that a Duchess need be around, that is for certain.” 

“I’m just Aelin Gala - Whitethorn - before I’m the Duchess of Wendlyn.” 

“Are they not the same?” 

“I don’t know yet.” Aelin admitted. “We’ve not been married long. I barely know - what it is like to be a Duchess.” She caught herself, remembering their lie. How they’d fallen in love in secret. How they’d gone behind her betrothed’s back. 

“It’s terribly romantic.” Lysandra said dreamily, accepting a cup of tea from the maid who had just entered the room. “You must be so thrilled to be with the man you fell for!” 

“I am.” Aelin nodded. It wasn’t technically a lie - she was thrilled to be with Rowan, but only because it meant salvation from Arobynn, not because they were in love. She did believe in true love, though. Thought that while it may not be for her, it should be for others she cared for. “You know, you said you couldn’t marry my cousin.” 

“I won’t.” 

“You didn’t say you didn’t love him, though.” 

Lysandra hesitated, her gaze dropping to her cup. “I…he’s a wonderful man.” 

“But do you love him?” 

“Of course I do.” 

“Well, then. If I can run away with a Duke to Scotland under the cover of darkness, surely you can make your way down the aisle to marry a man you love, who also loves you.” 

Lysandra stared at her for a long moment, her face coloring. “I’ll think about it.” 

* 

“Besotted with your mistress, is it?” Rowan asked. Aedion gave him a hard look. 

“Did you not come here to accomplish something?” 

“Of course, but when the opportunity to push your buttons presents itself, why should I not partake?” 

“Here comes the club manager now. Didn’t you want to speak with him?” Aedion said, nodding toward the lobby. Rowan followed his gaze, his jaw tightening as the man came to a stop short of them. 

“Whitethorn,” the man said with surprise. Rowan nodded once. 

“Salvaterre.” 

** 

More of a filler chapter to establish a couple more settings & people in the story, we'll get more into the meat of it next time! If you know anything about historical fiction, you know that sometimes the plot gets BANANAS. That is going to happen here, too. Please strap in.

Also, please let me know if these tags aren't working. I haven't been on Tumblr in over a year tagging people and I'm not sure if they function the same as before.

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