Having survived the boggarts at the party earlier that day, Domitian was feeling relieved but also still a little tense, and he was already making plans for how he might spend the evening after dinner with Matilda. He had a new book he'd acquired earlier in the month, on the development of alchemic principles in Eastern Europe, that he might read. He had a bottle of liquor he could open to accompany it, or a humidor full of cigars. The more he considered it, though, the more he thought he might want to go out that evening. Ever since he'd become an animagus, the transformation was therapeutic. He couldn't manage it in London, of course, but it he went to the countryside he could indulge in a midnight hunt...

But first, getting through dinner. He looked up with some surprise as she commented on the roses. After so many years of marriage — particularly after nearly ten years of a marriage which was maintained, he was convinced, only for appearances and not for any genuine feeling — this was more of a tick in the box than anything. He hadn't even selected the bouquet himself, but had asked the housekeeper to pick something large and expensive. Something that fit their family's station — if their marriage was meant to maintain appearances, then appearances must be maintained very well. He had not expected Matilda to comment on the gift.

"Of course," he said with a simple shrug. Roses, hm? Typical, he supposed, but not particularly exciting. "I hope the color suits your room," he added vaguely. He wasn't sure what color the roses were. Well, red or pink, presumably, but there were shades within that — or perhaps there had been some other flowers in the bundle to add a little color. Hopefully there was some depth of color, and it wasn't a stupid thing to say.