The Secrets of Sir Richard Kenworthy by Julia Quinn Review


The Secrets of Sir Richard Kenworthy
Smythe-Smith Quartet # 4
By: Julia Quinn
Releasing January 27th, 2015
Avon Romance




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.





As a huge fan of Julia Quinn, I was extremely excited to get started on Smythe-Smith Quartet book 4! I was cheering and jumping up and down (much to my husband’s amusement) when the book arrived on my iPad…unfortunately my joy was dimmed a little once I started the book, I will explain more later.
We start the story with Sir Richard Kenworthy, He has a secret and to protect this secret, he needs a wife. But not just any wife, he needs a wife who is unassuming, a wallflower if you will. Someone who is intelligent, someone he will enjoy being married too. But the most important fact of all…it must be someone he can marry in the next 2 weeks and not put up a fuss.
Iris is an unassuming, very pale cello player in the Smythe-Smith quartet. She is a highly intelligent young woman, who after 3 seasons, wants to find someone of her own. When Iris first see Sir Richard, she is unnerved by him, and maybe a little intrigued…but after a week of outings, Iris is surprised when Richard proposes, even more so when she is found in a compromising position…I am going to leave it there as I don’t wish to give away any more of this story.
Okay, so in all honesty I had to read this book twice, before I managed to be able to get into it. It is not the normal Julia Quinn book, it’s a little dark which I actually don’t mind. But the downsides I found that some of the characters were relationships were detached; there was just not the chemistry there that has been in past books. I also found the storyline a little jumpy; ultimately it just wasn’t a smooth read, just very rushed. 
So after much long and drawn out consideration I give this book 7 out of 10.
I would just like to add that I don’t think being an author is an easy job in any respects. You pour your life and heart into a book and if you stray away from the normal formula readers (like me) complain. But please don’t let my words stop you from buying this book, my review is based on my thoughts and feeling alone. Julia Quinn is an amazing author, one that I urge you to read. And though this was not one of my favorite books, it will never stop me from buying every single other book she writes in the future.




Pleinsworth House
London
Spring 1825
To quote that book his sister had read two dozen times, it was a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
Sir Richard Kenworthy was not in possession of a fortune, but he was single. As for the wife …Well, that was complicated.
“Want” wasn’t the right word. Who wanted a wife? Men in love, he supposed, but he wasn’t in love, had never been in love, and he didn’t anticipate falling in such anytime soon.
Not that he was fundamentally opposed to the idea. He just didn’t have time for it.
The wife, on the other hand …
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing down at the program in his hand.
 You are Cordially Welcomed to
the 19th Annual Smythe-Smith Musicale
featuring a well-trained quartet of violin, violin, cello, and pianoforte
He had a bad feeling about this.
“Thank you, again, for accompanying me,” Winston Bevelstoke said to him.
Richard regarded his good friend with a skeptical expression. “I find it unsettling,” he remarked, “how often you’ve thanked me.”
“I’m known for my impeccable manners,” Winston said with a shrug. He’d always been a shrugger. In fact, most of Richard’s memories of him involved some sort of what-can-I-say shoulder motion.
“It doesn’t really matter if I forget to take my Latin exam. I’m a second son.” Shrug.
“The rowboat was already capsized by the time I arrived on the bank.” Shrug.
“As with all things in life, the best option is to blame my sister.” Shrug. (Also, evil grin.)
Richard had once been as unserious as Winston. In fact, he would very much like to be that unserious again.
But, as mentioned, he hadn’t time for that. He had two weeks. Three, he supposed. Four was the absolute limit.
“Do you know any of them?” he asked Winston.
“Any of who?”
Richard held up the program. “The musicians.”
Winston cleared his throat, his eyes sliding guiltily away. “I hesitate to call them musicians …”
Richard looked toward the performance area that had been set up in the Pleinsworth ballroom. “Do you know them?” he repeated. “Have you been introduced?” It was all well and good for Winston to make his customary cryptic comments, but Richard was here for a reason.
“The Smythe-Smith girls?” Winston shrugged. “Most of them. Let me see, who’s playing this year?” He looked down at his program. “Lady Sarah Prentice at the pianoforte—that’s odd, she’s married.”
Damn.
“It’s usually just the single ladies,” Winston explained. “They trot them out every year to perform. Once they’re married, they get to retire.”
Richard was aware of this. In fact, it was the primary reason he had agreed to attend. Not that anyone would have found this surprising. When an unmarried gentleman of twenty-seven reappeared in London after a three-year absence … One did not need to be a matchmaking mama to know what that meant.
He just hadn’t expected to be so rushed.Frowning, he let his eyes fall on the pianoforte. It looked well-made. Expensive. Definitely nicer than the one he had back at Maycliffe Park.
“Who else?” Winston murmured, reading the elegantly printed names in the program. “Miss Daisy Smythe-Smith on violin. Oh, yes, I’ve met her. She’s dreadful.”
Double damn. “What’s wrong with her?” Richard asked.
“No sense of humor. Which wouldn’t be such a bad thing, it’s not as if everyone else is a barrel of laughs. It’s just that she’s so … obvious about it.”
“How is one obvious about a lack of humor?”
“I have no idea,” Winston admitted. “But she is. Very pretty, though. All blond bouncy curls and such.” He made a blond bouncy motion near his ear, which led Richard to wonder how it was possible that Winston’s hand movements were so clearly not brunette.
“Lady Harriet Pleinsworth, also on violin,” Winston continued. “I don’t believe we have been introduced. She must be Lady Sarah’s younger sister. Barely out of the schoolroom, if my memory serves. Can’t be much more than sixteen.”
Triple damn. Perhaps Richard should just leave now.
“And on the cello …” Winston slid his finger along the heavy stock of the program until he found the correct spot. “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.
Richard used to be a lucky fellow. Really.
“She’s very pale,” Winston said.
Richard looked over at him. “Is that a flaw?”
“Of course not. It’s just …” Winston paused, his brow coming together in a little furrow of concentration. “Well, to be honest, that’s pretty much all I recall of her.”
Richard nodded slowly, his eyes settling on the cello, resting against its stand. It also looked expensive, although it wasn’t as if he knew anything about the manufacture of cellos.
“Why such curiosity?” Winston asked. “I know you’re keen to marry, but surely you can do better than a Smythe-Smith.”
Two weeks ago that might have been true.



JULIA QUINN started writing her first book one month after finishing college and has been tapping away at her keyboard ever since. The New York Times bestselling author of twenty-four novels for Avon Books, she is a graduate of Harvard and Radcliffe Colleges and is one of only fifteen authors ever to be inducted in the Romance Writers of America Hall of Fame. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her family.




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