"I am. I am Iris Carpenter," she confirmed as she eyed the man who came in. He looked like he had been working rather hard. The young widow regarded him with her weariness. "I can take the babe now if you wish." And she hoped so... her breasts were extremely painful with the milk she produced that had yet to be suckled. "My own child died not long after birth... I ah..." she looked down then, not asking why he needed a wet nurse. If he wanted to tell her, he probably would, but she didn't want to pry any more than she wanted him to pry about her past. Her voice sounded hollow.