The intruder had done something to the room. Don Juan didn't recognize the spell, but he could feel the change in the air. His own wand seemed to burn in his pocket, but he was by now very sure that magic would only make this worse, for both of them. Whoever this woman was — Rowan, who was Rowan? — she evidently had the ability and the desire to report what she had seen to Elfrieda's husband. Don Juan didn't know what he would do if he was told. A part of him thought nothing was the most likely answer; he had been neglecting Elfie for half a year at least, after all, so he couldn't possibly have been that invested in what lay inside her heart. On the other hand, small men could get... possessive, for lack of a better word. He might not have cared a whit what Elfrieda did, whether she languished or suffered without him, but the idea that people might know she was unhappy with him may have hit differently. Or the idea that someone else had been touching something he considered his, whether or not he was using it. This kind of thinking made him uncomfortable deep down in his gut, even if he was only trying it on the way he might try on Clifford Yaxley's shoes. From his perspective the man had never deserved to be married at all, and certainly not to someone with such depths as Elfrieda had.

"Someone who cares more about her than her husband ever did," he declared brashly. He edged back towards Elfie, as though shielding her now might make up for his retreat earlier, although she was already covered and there wasn't actually enough space in the room for him to get between the two women. "So you can tell him that, if you like."

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   Elfrieda Yaxley