Tiberius had seen her things in the room that morning, and had made a discreet inquiry to the butler to see whether a mistake had been made. It wouldn't do to seem impertinent or ungrateful to Lucius when he was a guest in his house, but it certainly seemed like an oversight to put the two of them in the same bedroom. It wasn't as though anyone in this family had any illusions that the two of them were fond of each other. When he was engaged in family events, Tiberius barely acknowledged his wife's existence, much less went to any pains to spend time with her.

It was not a mistake, however; the butler regretted to inform him that most couples were boarding together, due to the large number of guests. Tiberius considered simply going home at night and avoiding the entire ordeal — it would be convenient enough, with the floo system — but the chances that he might be discovered were too great, and he did not want to risk offending his host or looking unduly suspicious. Besides (and probably the greatest consideration of all, though he wouldn't admit to it) was that he was certain Antigone had drawn the same conclusions he had already, and if he went home to his own bedroom it might appear that he was ceding the room to her. His wife's ego was big enough without feeling as though the mere idea of her presence could scare him away from a bedroom he had every right to.

But he was not relishing the idea of sharing the room with her, by any means. He'd dallied in the downstairs parlor for as long as he feasibly could to avoid having to go to bed (the opposite of his usual solitude-seeking behaviors) until finally there was nothing else to waste time on. He was grimacing before he even opened the door, and her greeting made him no more keen on the idea of spending the night with her. "I'm going to sleep," he said with a derisive look. "Unless you've put on so much weight you don't think the bed will accommodate two."