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

by Julia Quinn

Wisely, Iris held her tongue. When her mother was pontificating on a topic of social importance, it was best not to interrupt.

She knew she was not sentimental, but she was not completely without feelings. She’d read Pride and Prejudice six times. That had to count for something.

And while Iris was understandably nervous about leaving her home and all that was familiar to her, she’d heard enough of wedding nights to know that she did not wish to spend hers under her parents’ roof.

“Good evening,” he said, his voice smooth as brandy. Not that she drank brandy, but everyone said it was smooth.

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.

His knife scraped too hard against the bread, the sound grating and loud in the overwhelming silence.

She was never going to be the sort of woman who cradled distraught friends and sisters in her arms and murmured, “There, there.”