Ophelia beamed at the praise, but it was nothing she was surprised to hear. The better part of it all was hearing him use the word wife. She had waited so long to become one (or at least it felt like it, from her perspective), and she couldn't imagine it happening any more perfectly than this. There had certainly been bumps along the road, and there were moments when she had doubted that this day would ever come. It had taken a long enough time to even be sure that she had his attentions and affections, and then there had been the betrothal that had forced her to run away from home, the ongoing awkwardness with Mr. Dawlish, culminating in his ultimate demise — and then, as though her life had not been melodramatic enough of late, the scandal with Mr. Bixby and Witch Weekly. This moment had been threatened more times than she could count, but now that it was here, no one and no thing could take it away from her.

"I'm so glad that we've finally come to that," she said with a giggle. "Husband and wife. Oh," she continued, noticing that her bags had been placed on one side of the room and a nightgown had been laid out already for her. "They've brought my things up. This is my room, then?" she asked, glancing around approvingly before she realized her mistake. "Our room," she corrected, with a deep flush.