Julia Quinn is one of my favorite authors in the historical romance category and I’m excited to share an exclusive excerpt from her new book, THE SECRETS OF SIR RICHARD KENWORTHY (Smythe-Smith Quartet # 4) releasing on January 27th, 2015. The publisher, Avon is giving away one bundle of copies of the first three books in the series, so be sure to enter the giveaway for a chance to win them!
Sir Richard Kenworthy has less than a month to find a bride. He knows he can’t be too picky, but when he sees Iris Smythe-Smith hiding behind her cello at her family’s infamous musicale, he thinks he might have struck gold. She’s the type of girl you don’t notice until the second-or third-look, but there’s something about her, something simmering under the surface, and he knows she’s the one.
Iris Smythe-Smith is used to being underestimated. With her pale hair and quiet, sly wit she tends to blend into the background, and she likes it that way. So when Richard Kenworthy demands an introduction, she is suspicious. He flirts, he charms, he gives every impression of a man falling in love, but she can’t quite believe it’s all true. And when his proposal of marriage turns into a compromising position that forces the issue, she can’t help thinking that he’s hiding something…even as her heart tells her to say yes.
AVAILABLE JANUARY 27TH, 2015
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The following day found Iris trapped in the drawing room with her mother and Daisy, waiting for the inevitable trickle of callers. They had to be at home for visitors, her mother insisted. People would want to congratulate them on their performance.
Her married sisters would stop by, Iris imagined, and most likely a few other ladies. The same ones who attended each year out of kindness. The rest would avoid the Smythe-Smith home—any of the Smythe-Smith homes—like the proverbial plague. The last thing anyone wanted to do was make polite conversation about an aural disaster.
It was rather as if the Dover cliffs crumbled into the sea, and everyone sat about drinking tea, saying, “Oh yes, ripping good show. Too bad about the vicar’s house, though.”
But it was early still, and they had not yet been graced by a visitor. Iris had brought down something to read, but Daisy was still aglow with delight and triumph.
“I thought we were splendid,” she announced.
Iris lifted her eyes from her book just long enough to say, “We weren’t splendid.”
“Perhaps you weren’t, hiding behind your cello, but I have never felt so alive and in tune with the music.”
Iris bit her lip. There were so very many ways she could respond. It was as if her younger sister was begging her to use every sarcastic word in her arsenal. But she held her tongue. The concert always left her feeling irritable, and no matter how annoying Daisy was—and she was, oh, she was—it wasn’t her fault that Iris was in such a bad mood. Well, not entirely.
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