Another lie. She was getting good at this. Or maybe not. From Richard’s expression, it was clear he did not believe her.

“Very well,” she acceded. “I am a little nervous.”

“Ah. Well, there probably is reason for that.”

“Sir Richard!”

He grinned. “Sorry. I could not resist. And if you recall, I would prefer that you not call me sir. At least not when we are alone.”

She tilted her head, deciding he deserved the ambiguity of such a response.

“Iris,” he said, his voice gentle, “I would be a cad if I did not recognize that you have had to make all of the adjustments in our union.”

Not all, Iris thought acerbically. And certainly not the biggest. In fact, one might say that a rather important part of her had not been adjusted in the least. The second night of their journey had passed much the same as the first: in separate bedchambers. Richard had repeated what he’d said before, that she did not deserve a wedding night in a dusty inn.

Never mind that the Royal Oak was every bit as spotless as the Dusty Goose had been. The same went for the Kings Arms, where they’d slept the final night of their journey. Iris knew that she should feel honored that her husband held her in such regard, that he would put her comfort and well-being above his needs, but she couldn’t help wondering what had happened to the man who had kissed her so passionately at Pleinsworth House barely a week before. He had seemed so overcome by her nearness, so wholly unable to restrain himself.

And now . . . Now that they were married and he had no reason to hold his passions . . .

It made no sense.

But then again, neither had marrying her, and he’d done that with alacrity.

She bit her lip.

“I have asked much of you,” he said.

“Not so much,” she muttered.

“What was that?”

She gave her head a little shake. “Nothing.”

He let out a breath, the only signal that this conversation might be even a little difficult for him. “You have moved halfway across the country,” he said. “I have taken you away from all you hold dear.”

Iris managed a tight smile. Was this meant to reassure her?

“But I do believe,” he continued, “that we will suit very well. And I hope that you will come to view Maycliffe as home.”

“Thank you,” she said politely. She appreciated that he was making such an effort to make her feel welcome, but it wasn’t doing much to soothe her nerves.

“My sisters will be most eager to meet you.”

Iris hoped that was true.

“I wrote to them about you,” he continued.

She looked up in surprise. “When?” she asked. He would have had to have done so immediately following their engagement if the news was to reach Maycliffe before she did.

“I sent an express.”