When they reached the landing, the butler led them into a dimly lit hallway and pointed to the first door. “This would be Master Marcus’s room,” he said as he opened the door and stepped inside.

“We share a room,” Ian said. “At home. The three of us. We’ll do that here.”

“I don’t wanna sleep alone,” Marcus said.

The butler’s eyebrow arched. “Madam says you are each to have your own room. It would go better for you lads if you minded her.” He paused. “You grandmother sleeps in the east wing. She won’t disturb you here.”

Ian gave the butler a nod, understanding the man’s meaning. “It’s all right, Marky,” Ian said, giving his brother a gentle shove. “Dec and I will just go see our rooms and then we’ll come back and tuck you in.”

Marcus nodded mutely then slowly walked into the room. He stood right by the door, watching as Dec and Ian followed the butler down the hall, peering around the doorjamb with wide eyes.

Ian had always complained about sharing a room with his younger brothers, but now that he had the chance to have his own room, it didn’t seem like such a treat. Each room was dominated by a huge bed with heavy fabric hanging off the posts at the corners. The same fabric hung at the windows, faded by the sun and time.

When Ian reached his room, he walked over to the fireplace and stared at the huge portrait hanging over the mantel. A young boy sat astride a beautiful horse. His face looked familiar, but Ian knew he’d never met the boy.

“That’s your grandfather,” Dennick explained. “This was his room when he was a lad. You look like him.”

Ian glanced over his shoulder. “What happened to him?”

“He died in the war. He was a soldier and was killed by the Germans in France.”