Home > Books > The Secrets of Sir Richard Kenworthy (Smythe-Smith Quartet #4)(78)

The Secrets of Sir Richard Kenworthy (Smythe-Smith Quartet #4)(78)

Author:Julia Quinn

“Why do you sound so grim?” she asked, after a brief pause.

Grim did not even begin to cover it. “We should wait for them in the drive,” he said.

She nodded, ignoring the fact that he did not answer her question, and they headed out the front door. Cresswell was already standing at attention in the drive, along with Mrs. Hopkins and the two footmen. Richard and Iris took their places just as the carriage pulled up behind his aunt’s prized team of dappled grays.

The door to the carriage was opened, and Richard immediately stepped forward to assist his sisters. Marie-Claire bounced down first, giving his hand a little squeeze as she descended. “She is in a beastly mood,” she said without preamble.

“Wonderful,” Richard muttered.

“You must be Marie-Claire,” Iris said brightly. She was anxious, though. Richard could see it in the way her hands were clasped tightly together in front of her. He’d noticed that she did that to keep herself from bunching the fabric of her dress in her fingers when she was nervous.

Marie-Claire gave a small curtsy. At fourteen she was already taller than Iris, but her face still held the roundness of childhood. “I am. Please forgive us for returning early. Fleur wasn’t feeling well.”

“No?” Iris inquired, peering toward the open carriage door. There was still no sign of Fleur.

Marie-Claire looked over at Richard while Iris wasn’t watching and made a retching motion.

“In the carriage?” he could not help but ask.

“Twice.”

He winced, then stepped up on the stool that had been laid beside the carriage door and peered inside. “Fleur?”

She was huddled in the corner, miserable and pale. She looked like she’d been sick twice in the carriage. Smelled like it, too.

“I’m not talking to you.”

Bloody hell. “So it’s like this, then.”

She turned away, her dark hair obscuring her face. “I would prefer to have one of the footmen assist me from the carriage.”

Richard pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the raging headache he knew would soon have his skull in a vise. He and Fleur had been at odds about this for well over a month. There was only one acceptable solution. He knew this, and it infuriated him that she refused to accept what must be done.

He sighed wearily. “For the love of God, Fleur, put aside your irritation for one minute and let me help you out of the carriage. It smells like a hospital in here.”

“I’m not irritated,” she spat.

“You’re irritating me.”

She drew back at the insult. “I want a footman.”

“You will take my hand,” he ground out.

For a moment he thought she would hurl herself out the opposite door just to vex him, but she must have retained at least an ounce of the sense she’d once displayed, because she looked up, and snarled, “Fine.” With a purposeful lack of grace, she slapped her hand onto his and allowed him to assist her out of the carriage. Iris and Marie-Claire were standing side by side, pretending not to watch.

“Fleur,” Richard said in a dangerous voice, “I would like to introduce you to your new sister. My wife, Lady Kenworthy.”

Fleur looked at Iris. There was an awful silence.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Iris said, holding out her hand.

Fleur did not take it.

For the first time in his life, Richard almost hit a woman. “Fleur,” he said warningly.

With a disrespectful purse of her lips, Fleur made a curtsy. “Lady Kenworthy.”

“Please,” Iris said, her eyes flicking nervously to Richard before settling back on Fleur. “I hope you will call me Iris.”

Fleur gave her a withering stare, then turned to Richard. “It isn’t going to work.”

“Don’t do this here, Fleur,” he warned her.

She jerked her arm out toward Iris. “Look at her!”

Iris took a little step back. Richard had a feeling she did not even realize she’d done it. Their eyes met, hers bewildered, his exhausted, and he silently pleaded with her not to ask, not yet.

But Fleur wasn’t done. “I’ve already said—”

Richard grabbed her by the arm and hauled her away from the others. “This is not the time or the place.”

She stared at him mutinously, then yanked her arm free. “I’ll be in my room, then,” she said, and stalked off toward the house. But she stumbled on the bottom step and would have fallen if Iris had not leapt forward to catch her.

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