Maycliffe had its charms, though. From the distance, it appeared to be red brick, with rather unusual Dutch gables adorning the façade. There was something almost uneven about it, but given what she knew of its history, that made sense. Richard had told her that the house had been modified and added to several times over the years.

“The family rooms face south,” he told her. “You’ll be glad for it in the winter.”

“I don’t know which way we’re facing now,” Iris admitted.

He smiled. “We are approaching from the west. So your rooms will be around that”—he pointed to the right—“corner.”

Iris nodded without turning back to her husband. Right now she wanted to keep her attention on her new home. As they pulled closer, she saw that each gable was dotted with a small circular window. “Who has the rooms at the top?” she asked. “With the round windows?”

“It’s a bit of a mix. Some are for servants. On the south, it’s the nursery. My mother turned one into a reading room.”

He hadn’t said much about his parents, either, Iris realized. Just that they’d both passed, his mother when he was a student at Eton, his father a few years later.

But this wasn’t the right time to press for more information. The carriage was coming to a stop, and sure enough, all of Maycliffe was lined up in the front drive to greet them. It did look to be more than the thirteen servants Richard had mentioned; perhaps he’d meant only those serving in the house itself. From what Iris could see there were gardeners among the group, stable-hands, too. She had never been greeted by such a complete collection of staff before; she supposed it was because she was not a guest, she was the new mistress of the estate. Why had no one warned her? She was nervous enough without feeling she had to make a good impression on the man who tended the roses.

Richard hopped down, then held a hand up for her. Iris took a deep breath and disembarked, regarding the assembled servants with what she hoped was a friendly yet confident smile.

“Mr. Cresswell,” Richard said, leading toward the tall man who could only be the butler, “may I present Lady Kenworthy, the new mistress of Maycliffe Park.”

Cresswell gave a stiffly proper bow. “We are delighted to have a woman’s presence again here at Maycliffe.”

“I am eager to learn about my new home,” Iris said, using words she had practiced the night before. “I am sure I will rely upon you and Mrs. Hopkins a great deal during these first few months.”

“It will be our honor to assist you, my lady.”

Iris felt the terrifying knot within her begin to loosen. Cresswell sounded sincere, and surely the rest of the servants would follow his lead.