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the devil in winter | chapter one | notoriety

London, 1824

Rowan Whitethorn assumed he had imagined the knock at the door. A glance at the mantle clock showed it was after midnight, and the idea of a caller at this hour was laughable at best. Especially in Mayfair. Especially at his home. He burrowed his shoulders back into the leather chair, his eyes closing against the glow of the fireplace. He should go to bed, should drag himself upstairs to the smaller room where he was sure his valet had lit a fire…

Knock knock knock

More urgent this time, and Rowan knew he was awake and therefore had not imagined the sound. Hurried footsteps sounded outside the sitting room and Rowan sat up, his eyes meeting that of his housekeeper, Sarah.

“I’ll get it,” Rowan said firmly, his long legs swinging off the foot stool. Sarah shook her head.

“Don’t trouble -“

“It’s after midnight, Sarah, do you think I’m going to let you open the door? You barely come up to my shoulder.”

She bobbed a quick curtsy, her face coloring. “That’s very…I’ll just stand around the corner, then.”

Rowan nodded once, striding into the hall. He rolled his shoulders and pulled open the door, the cold December wind freezing his face. “How can I - “ The words died in his throat as he regarded a woman wrapped in a too-light cloak.

“You’re the Duke of Wendlyn?”

Her face tilted toward him, and he huffed a breath. “You’re Ashryver’s cousin.” She nodded curtly.

“May I…?”

“Come in,” Rowan said slowly, standing aside to let her pass. What any woman, particularly this woman, was doing at his home in the small hours was certainly a mystery.

Sarah materialized from around the corner, taking the cloak from the young woman’s shoulders. The visitor glanced around, her blue eyes darting to the door that Rowan shut firmly behind her, closing out the frigid wind. He silently gestured toward the open sitting room door, the shadows from the flames dancing off the walls. She walked ahead of him, her steps stilted and awkward, as though her limbs had frozen stiff.

“I’ll bring some tea,” Sarah said from the hall. Rowan nodded vaguely before following the woman into the sitting room. She was already perched on the side of the chair closest to the fire, her hands held out in front of her.

“Can you remind me of your name?” Rowan asked gruffly. She jumped as though forgetting she was not alone.

“Aelin Galathynius.” She said softly. Aedion Ashryver’s cousin, that much he knew. He and Aedion went to the same Gentleman’s Club near Hyde Park, and though they’d spoken infrequently, Rowan knew him to be a well-liked man.

“Rowan Whitethorn,” he said, gesturing to himself. She nodded.

“Duke of Wendlyn.”

“The very same.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Aelin’s trembling not abating despite her closeness to the fire. Rowan followed her gaze to the flames, letting the heat wash over him, his eyes darting to his visitor every few seconds. It was not until Sarah had deposited a steeping pot of tea on the table that she spoke again.

“I…this is very abnormal for me, I assure you. But I need help.”

Rowan lifted a brow, noting how Aelin’s gaze drifted around the room but never settled on him. “Help?”

“Yes.”

“We are barely acquainted, why do you need help from me?”

“You need money.”

Rowan frowned. He did need money. But how did she…

“I heard a rumor, at the modiste. Something about your inheritance being stopped up due to some legal issues. That your late father had done something in the paperwork.”

Rowan clenched his jaw. That much was true. The fact that it had gotten around London, though, ground his gears. “Yes, well, if you know I am running out of money, how on earth could I help you?”

“I have money.” Aelin said simply, her eyes finally meeting his, her expression patient as she waited for him to put it together.

“I see. And this…” He paused, gesturing at the pair of them alone in the room. “This is meant to entrap me? You’re alone, unmarried, unchaperoned, the daughter of an Earl and the cousin of a Lord, and you’d prevail upon my honor after letting yourself into my home in the hopes that I’ll marry you. Is that the short of it?”

Aelin looked momentarily stunned, color flooding her cheeks. “That is the gist, yes.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” Rowan confirmed, a tight smile coming to his lips. “You’re not the first to seek to entrap me, and you won’t be the last.”

“Your reputation certainly does you no justice,” Aelin said flatly, her lip curling.

“Oh?”

“You’re a notorious rake. A skirt chaser. A womanizer, as my cousin so delicately put it. I would have expected, though, given your reputation as a gentleman that you would abide by assisting a woman in distress.”

Rowan looked at her blankly. “Distress?”

“I said that I needed help, didn’t I? You think that it’s my life ambition to give you my parents’ fortune?” He said nothing, just tilted his head as though asking her to continue. Aelin sighed, before plowing on. “The Gala Club, you know it?”

He snorted. “Everyone knows it.”

“You know who owns it?”

“I know who…owned it.” Rowan trailed off, his voice softening. He was aware of the demise of the Galathyniuses. Everyone was. It was a miracle that the blaze had not killed their only daughter, her arrival home delayed by an overturned carriage on the road. “Your parents owned The Gala Club,” Rowan continued, motioning for her to continue.

“Yes, and unfortunately, they had a bit of debt from another business. The club was put up as collateral. It was a poor investment. A railroad company that’s already gone under. I can’t pay the debt myself - my inheritance is tied up.”

“Tied up in…”

“Waiting for matrimony.” She said flatly. “My father tied my money to my marriage.”

“Ah, so you seek to marry me since I’m in need of money. I get funds, you pay your debt, and you get a title.”

“I am already betrothed.” Aelin said, her voice shaking on the word. “I am betrothed to a monstrous man. He is the one who conned my father into making the poor investment, the one the money is owed to. It’s a sick joke, really. He gets the money and he gets me, the only child of the Galathyniuses.”

Had any other woman been standing before him, Rowan may have commented on the vanity of the statement. In looking at her face, though - drawn and pale as she was - Rowan could find no faults. She was beautiful.

“I pity your situation, I really do. It is an unfair hand you have been dealt.” Rowan said sincerely. “But I am not able to help you. I do not intend to marry, ever. And I am, as your cousin so eloquently put, a womanizer. So, again, if you sought to entrap me tonight, you will find that I have little pity for your goals and I will allow your name to be besmirched by being in my home with me alone, gentleman be damned.”

“I can make it worth your while.” Aelin said quietly, coming to her feet. Rowan could see every curve illuminated by the fire behind her. It would not be a hardship to bed her, that was for certain.

“You are a beautiful woman, Aelin.” Rowan said softly, noting her eyes widen a fraction. She clearly hadn’t expected it. “But I will not defile Aedion Ashryver’s cousin. We could conceive a child, and that is a storm you would not weather. If anyone were to find out you were here tonight, all of London society will move on from the gossip next week and you will be spared any social issue.”

“I appreciate the compliment,” Aelin said smoothly, her hands coming to rest on her hips. “But that’s not what I meant. I will make it worth your while, because I know something about you.”

“Oh?”

“You’re not a womanizer, or a skirt chaser, or whatever moniker you might want people to believe.”

“I’m confident the conquests I’ve had in the past six months alone would beg to differ.”

“What conquests?” Aelin challenged. “Name one.”

“I don’t kiss and tell, especially not to women.” Rowan said, crossing his arms over his chest. His heart hammered. How had she known…?

“I’m resourceful and I watch.” Aelin answered his unasked question. “My betrothed does not let me participate in any of the balls anymore. I snuck out a window tonight to come here.”

“Say you’re right. How would making a wife of a virgin who’s just made her debut be worth my while?”

“I’m betrothed to Arobynn Hamel.” Rowan’s heart stopped, his face frozen. A satisfied smile settled on Aelin’s lips. “I understand he’s to blame for a few of the skeletons in your own closet, Rowan Whitethorn.”

Rowan shook with fury. Arobynn Hamel was the reason Rowan had no money to his name. Arobynn Hamel was the reason he was alone. If Rowan Whitethorn could murder one man, it would be Arobynn Hamel.

“I lied earlier. I didn’t hear about your lack of wealth at the modiste. I went through my future husband’s papers and found out what he did to your father. To your mother. And I came here.”

“And you were so confident I would help you because?” Rowan leashed his fury, his stormy eyes focusing again on the woman in front of him. She seemed different, now, her ruthlessness on the surface.

“I told you, I watch. I see. You’re a good man, Rowan Whitethorn, and that despite everything that was done to you. I thought the opportunity to fill up your coffers, steal the bride of someone you despise, and stop all those husband-hunting mothers from chasing you around balls might interest you.”

Rowan huffed down his laugh. Aelin wore a half smile, but her eyes were wary. Watching him, and waiting for an answer.

“Well,” Rowan said finally. “I’ll ready the carriage. We’ll leave immediately.”

“For where?”

“Scotland. You’ve got yourself a husband.”

He was on board with the plan, that was for certain, but Rowan wished with all his heart that it was any other month. Despite the plushness of the carriage and the thick wool blanket spread between them, he and Aelin were both frozen.

They both knew what Arobynn Hamel was capable of, and therefore had wasted no time in departing for Scotland. Gretna Green was located right over the border, and the closest village to London where one did not have to wait two weeks to marry. Theirs was a marriage of expediency; if Arobynn Hamel knew his intended was due to marry another, he simply would not allow it to happen.

And now that Rowan had the opportunity for revenge on the one person he despised most in the world, he meant to take it.

“Are you okay?” Rowan asked quietly. Aelin shrugged.

“I am cold,” she admitted. “It’s a shame it wasn’t summer.”

Rowan laughed. “You’re not wrong. The next inn we stop at, I’ll get a hot brick for your feet.”

“That’s…thank you. That’s very kind.”

“I am, as you said, a gentleman.” He didn’t sound like he believed it. Aelin laughed quietly, her voice thin in the cold air. They’d been on the road for nearly five hours, and the road was still quiet.

“Why lie? Why let people believe the worst of you?”

“That I chase other men’s wives, strike up torrid affairs, and gamble with every young heart on the north side of eighteen?” Aelin nodded, and Rowan went on. “It’s easier than the truth.”

“What’s the truth?”

Rowan’s gaze hardened. “There may be a time, Aelin, when we’re friends enough to share. But that’s not now.”

“As your future wife…”

“As my future wife, you’re entitled to my title, homes, and protection. That’s where we’ll have to draw the line.”

“And I’m supposed to just, what? Be satisfied with that?”

“You’re getting what you want: out of a marriage with a monster. That’s all I can give you.”

“You are better than Arobynn.” Aelin grumbled. Rowan shot her a tight smile.

“I would take that as a compliment, but even the lowest, meanest creatures are better than him.”

“I relish the thought of him awakening and finding me gone.” Aelin said quietly. At Rowan’s quirked brow, she continued. “When I don’t come down to breakfast and he goes to my door and finds my room empty. He’ll see the open window. He’ll know I left. It will kill him that I slipped past his men.”

“Men?”

“Bodyguards. We’re not the only ones who have been wronged by him.”

“And he’s…just in your parents home in London?” Rowan asked. The fire, he remembered, had been in their country home.

“He’s been there since the wedding was announced.”

Most unusual, that. For a man to reside at the home of his future bride prior to their official wedding. “I can’t imagine your parents tying you to that man. Or your cousin, for that matter.”

“It was small print in the contract for the bad investment. There was no way out of it. Believe me, Aedion tried.”

“I know your cousin.” Rowan acknowledged. “He’s a good man.”

“He is.” Aelin said softly. “He offered to marry me himself. But I could never, that is, you know…” She trailed off, her face coloring.

“I understand.” Rowan agreed, the uncomfortable fact settling over his shoulders. Did she expect…?

“Are you going to make me a true wife?” Aelin asked suddenly. “You offer your name and your protection, but you do not offer yourself?”

“I offer myself once, to ensure there is no question that this is a legitimate marriage.” Rowan agreed. “But that is all that I can offer you, at least for now. There may come a time later on, when you want children to occupy you. I would be obliged to offer you that. I would look the other way when we have legitimate children, should you want to amuse yourself elsewhere.”

Aelin blinked. “So, you and I consummate our marriage, wait an undecided amount of time before doing it again just to have heirs, and then I can go ahead and find a man on the side?”

“That’s the short of it.” Rowan said, happy she had caught on. He did not do sex. He hadn’t in…well. Years. Not since…everything happened.

“What if I want to do it more often?” Aelin challenged, looking him up and down. “You appear to be a fit man. What if we consummate our marriage and it’s enjoyable enough to do it many more times, and not just for the sake of children?”

Rowan blinked. “How old are you again? Where have you heard such things?”

“I’m twenty, thank you very much.” Aelin said hotly, crossing her arms across her chest. “And I’ll have you know that Dorian told me it can be very enjoyable for a woman, should the man know what he is doing!”

“Who is Dorian…not the Duke of Ardarlan?”

“Yes, the Duke of Ardarlan.”

“You talk about sex with the Duke of Ardarlan?” Rowan asked faintly, rubbing his temples. What on earth had he gotten himself into?

“He’s one of my oldest friends.” Aelin said, as if that settled it. Rowan shook his head, but Aelin continued. “Answer the question, please.”

“What was the question?” Rowan asked, his head spinning. If this was what came of knowing Aelin for six hours, he was certainly in for quite the marriage. Of all the women to break his vow for!

“If we enjoy sex, should we not partake in it often?”

“Why don’t we just wait and see what happens.” Rowan said, ready to beg for the conversation to be over.

“And do you intend to take a mistress?”

“No.” Rowan said firmly, all trace of humor gone from his voice. Aelin seemed to gather that the conversation was over, and that Rowan’s answer was final. She nodded once, slumping back into her seat.

“When do you think we’ll stop at an inn? I have need of the privy.”

“In about an hour, if we’re making the usual pace.”

“Are we intending to stay overnight or are we going straight to Scotland?”

“I don’t want to have Arobynn catching up to us,” Rowan admitted. “If he’s alone on horseback, he’ll make up ground quickly. We can stop on our way back to London and swap horse teams and drivers on the way there.”

“Okay.” Aelin agreed. They were silent until they reached the inn.

Aelin and Rowan traveled at a bruising pace, the wind only strengthening as they went further north. Without fail, Rowan brought a hot brick for their feet at each stop. Halfway to Scotland, he finally gave in and moved to her side of the carriage, opening his cloak and allowing her to snuggle into his side for warmth.

Only for warmth, he reminded himself. The closeness of a woman, especially one as beautiful as Aelin had his resolve cracking. But, he’d made his vow for a reason. There would be no…partaking as she had so eloquently put it.

They slept in small bursts, eating salted meats and cheeses with hard bread. At each inn they ate something hot, usually stew or roasted meats, enough to warm them from the inside. By nightfall on the third day, they were finally approaching Gretna Green.

“Aelin.” Rowan elbowed her in the ribs and she shot awake, her body tense as she took in her surroundings. “Woah, easy. It’s just me. We’re nearly there.”

“Wake me when we’re actually there, please.”

Rowan chuckled. “Okay.”

Thirty minutes later, Rowan elbowed her again, and Aelin cracked an eye open. “I was barely back to sleep.”

“Sorry. We’re here, now.”

The carriage stopped and Rowan pulled himself from Aelin, feeling the cold permeate his skin where she’d been snuggled into his side for the past several hours. He held out a hand and helped her down from the carriage. Her legs were shaking, her gait still unsteady as it had been when she entered his home that first night.

They crunched through the snow toward a blacksmith’s shop, smoke billowing from the chimney. Aelin nearly took off running at the thought of a fire. She and Rowan hurried to the door and he lifted his fist to knock.

The door swung open to reveal an older man with dark, thinning hair. He smiled at them. “Love birds, is it? Here to marry? Running from unsupportive parents? A scandal, perhaps?”

Rowan looked sidelong at Aelin, who was clearly fighting a laugh. “An inconvenient betrothal. We’ve just come straight from London, and would like to get this over with.”

“Get this over with?” The man repeated, glancing at Aelin. “It’s not too late, lass, if you want to turn back.”

“It is good advice, but I shall keep him.” Aelin said, a grin splitting across her tired face. It was dazzling, Rowan noted, and he felt the tension bracketing his own mouth begin to release.

“Come in, then, and have a look at the options.”

Rowan and Aelin followed the man into his home, nodding at two young women who must be his daughters. He pointed at several objects lined up on the work bench. “We can do a hand fast, a song, and a ring for the lady for eighty pounds.”

“Eighty pounds.” Rowan repeated, blinking once in disbelief.

Aelin elbowed him. “You’re getting my inheritance and The Gala Club, remember? Relax. I want a ring.”

Rowan sighed, nodding toward the box of rings the blacksmith had produced. He had a feeling this was only the beginning of giving his wife anything she asked for. If she smiled at him like that, anyway.

“That stone is representative of the schemer, a local legend.”

“Schemer.” Rowan repeated, amused. “It’s perfect for you.”

Aelin smirked. “I did sort of con you into this, didn’t I?”

“Sort of?”

“I can’t imagine that’s a man who does anything he doesn’t want to do, lass.” The blacksmith said, nodding once toward Rowan. He glared at the man, but Aelin nodded gravely.

“It’s true. I may have had the idea, but he was only too happy to go along with it.”

“She is a pretty one, if you don’t mind me saying. It’s no hardship for you to wed her, I’m sure.” The blacksmith said. Rowan grit his teeth, glancing once at Aelin.

“Can we get on with it? I would like to be in a bed at the inn down the road as soon as possible.” Rowan said through his teeth. The blacksmith nodded, and ushered them to the other room where he married them; a quick pronouncement and they were wed.

“You may kiss the bride.” He said joyfully. Rowan glanced down at Aelin, who was twisting the wedding ring around her finger. She looked up at him, blue meeting green, her gaze demure for the sake of their audience. Rowan, though, could see the fire below, the will of a woman who had jumped out of a window to reclaim her fate.

He brought a hand up to her neck, gently rubbing his thumb over her jaw. She tilted her head back, her lips parting as he closed the distance between them, hips lips dry and warm against her own. It was a quick kiss, only meant to seal the wedding, but Rowan felt it. The pull. The reason why he’d sworn off women, off of courting and sex.

He couldn’t fall in love. Not again.

wow was that the shortest official hiatus ever, or what? Please let me know if you would like to be removed from this tag list. I will have a masterlist soon - I am about done with chapter two :)

Title and loose plot inspired by Lisa Kleypas book by the same name!

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