The Secrets of Sir Richard Kenworthy (Smythe-Smith Quartet, #4)

by Julia Quinn

“Miss Iris Smythe-Smith.” “What’s wrong with her?” Richard asked. Because it seemed unlikely that there wouldn’t be something. Winston shrugged. “Nothing. That I know of.” Which meant that she probably yodeled in her spare time. When she wasn’t practicing taxidermy. On crocodiles.

“What’s wrong with her?” Richard asked. Because it seemed unlikely that there wouldn’t be something. Winston shrugged. “Nothing. That I know of.” Which meant that she probably yodeled in her spare time. When she wasn’t practicing taxidermy. On crocodiles.

Lol Richard's got jokes

“So accomplished,” Iris’s mother trilled year after year. “So poised.” So blind, was Iris’s unsaid response. So deaf.

Lol Iris has jokes too!

“If I were to call upon you tomorrow,” he asked in a quiet voice, “would you be at home?” She did not look at him, which was a pity, because he would have liked to see her blush again. “I would,” she whispered. That was the moment he decided. He was going to marry Iris Smythe-Smith.

Lol so fast. I'd love to know why.

He took a breath. He could do this. It wasn’t what he’d planned, but it was a better way. This one thing, he thought, he could do for her. He dropped down to one knee. She gasped. “Iris Smythe-Smith,” he said, taking her hand in his, “will you make me the happiest man alive and consent to be my wife?”

well...it's something

“Will you marry me?” he asked. No. Something was wrong. It was too soon. It did not make sense that he would love her so quickly. But he did not love her. He had not said he loved her. And yet, the way he looked at her . . . Why did he want to marry her? Why could she not trust him? “Iris?” he murmured. “My darling?” And she finally found her voice. “I need time.” Damn it. This was exactly what he had thought would happen. She wasn’t going to agree to marry him after only a weeklong courtship. She was far too sensible for that.

Ooph

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of movement. The door to the drawing room was still open. He was at an odd angle to it; he could see only a sliver of the interior. But he had a feeling that Lady Pleinsworth would exit at any moment, and— “I must kiss you!” he cried out, and he pulled Iris roughly into his arms. He heard her gasp with shock, and it tore painfully through him, but he had no choice. He had to go back to his original plan. He kissed her mouth, her jaw, her lovely exposed neck, and then— “Iris Smythe-Smith!”

Oh the scandal! What is he hiding??

In that moment, he realized she knew. She knew that he had not been overcome with passion, that this forced marriage had been—albeit poorly—orchestrated. Richard had never felt so ashamed.

Got some explaining do, Richard!

“He will . . .” Mrs. Smythe-Smith paused, and both of her hands spread in front of her like starfish, almost as if she were steadying herself against thin air. “He will place that part of him that is different inside you.” “In”—Iris didn’t seem quite able to get the word out—“side?”

Lol this is so awkwardly cute

“And besides that,” her mother continued, “gentlemen find pleasure in the act that ladies do not.” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Depending on your husband’s appetites—” “Appetites?” There would be food?

Lol omg. What is it with these mothers? Do they not like sex??

God only knew how long it was going to take for his traitorous body to settle down enough to escort her to supper. Oh yes, that would be genteel. Here, take my arm, but do ignore my raging erection.

Lol! Yeah, that's not quite the image you wanna put out there.

“You did not change,” he blurted out. Like an idiot. Her eyes widened as if she feared she had made an error. “Was I meant to?” “No, no. I’d meant to tell you not to bother.” He cleared his throat. “But I forgot.” “Oh.” She smiled. Awkwardly. “Well, I didn’t. Change, that is.” “I see.” Richard made a note to compliment himself on his sparkling wit. She stood there. So did he. “I brought a shawl,” she said. “Good idea.” “I thought it might get cold.” “It might.” “Yes, that’s what I thought.” He stood there. So did she.

Lol so awkward and cute

“But—” Her eyes were huge, bewildered. “Good night, Iris,” he said quickly. “But, I—” “Until tomorrow, my love.” Then he fled. Like the coward he was.

Whyyyyy is he doing this? I must know! Lol

“You see why I married her,” Richard said to Mrs. Burnham. The words flowed naturally from his smiling lips, but once said, a little prick of guilt sparked in his gut. It wasn’t why he’d married her. He wished it was why he’d married her.

Why DID you marry her? lol I'm so impatient.

“Why does it matter how it happened?” Richard finished.

Because you're hiding something from her!

“Oh, for the love of God, Richard, please do not insult my intelligence. You kissed me that night with the express purpose of being seen by my aunt. You demean me by insisting otherwise.”

Exactly

And then it hit him. It wasn’t that Iris was falling in love with him. He was falling in love with Iris. “Stop!” he cried, the word wrenching itself from his throat. He could not let her do this.

I. Must. KNOWWW.

A quarter of an hour ago she’d been peacefully reading a novel. Now she felt as if she were living in one. And she was the only character who did not seem to know the plot.

If it makes you feel any better, I don't know the plot either lol

“Please,” he said to her, “try to be reasonable.” Which was always the wrong thing to say to a woman.

Lol at least you realize it

She whispered, “Why did you marry me, Richard?” It was time to tell the truth. “You will pretend to be pregnant, Iris. And we will raise Fleur’s baby as our legitimate child.”

Ohhhhh wow. I didn't see THAT coming.

“It is difficult to marry a dead man,” she tried to quip. But it wasn’t easy to quip with so much bitterness in one’s voice. Marie-Claire only snorted. “What?” Iris turned and looked at her with narrowed eyes. There was something in Marie-Claire’s tone . . . “Please,” Marie-Claire scoffed. “Fleur is such a liar.”

*Gasp* He's not dead, maybe?

Iris fought the urge to scream. “What did she lie about?” “The father, of course,” Marie-Claire grunted, still trying to break free.

Ohhhh even better! So it's another man entirely.

“What will you say to her?” “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe ‘Are you out of your bloody mind?’” Marie-Claire’s mouth fell open. And then, skipping forward to catch up, she asked, “Can I watch?”

Lol can't blame the kid. That seems quite the eventful moment.

Iris snorted. “You’re barely bleeding.” “It still hurts.” “Really?” Iris regarded her dispassionately. “I’m told childbirth is a great deal more painful.” Fleur glared at her. “Not for me, of course,” Iris said lightly. “My first birth shall be painless. Not too difficult to pass a pillow, I imagine.”

Lol

“I love you.” He dropped to his knees. “I love you so much it hurts sometimes, but even if I knew how to make it stop, I wouldn’t because the pain is at least something.”

That's deep.