The Secrets of Sir Richard Kenworthy by Julia Quinn Read Free Book Online Page B

not to look at him, but the pleasant simplicity of his words caught her attention.
    He gave her a mischievous half smile. “It’s quite agreeable here at the edge of the ballroom. So many people to watch.”
    She turned quickly back to her lemonade. It was a sly sort of compliment, but a compliment, indeed. No one would have understood it but they two, and for that reason it was all the more wonderful.
    â€œI shall not be sitting here long, I’m afraid,” she said.
    His eyes seemed to sparkle. “Such a statement can only demand explanation.”
    â€œNow that you have danced with me,” she told him, “others will feel the need to follow suit.”
    He chuckled at that. “Really, Miss Smythe-Smith, do you find we men so lacking in originality?”
    She shrugged, still keeping her gaze fixed ahead. “As I told you, Sir Richard, I am very fond of observation. I cannot say why men do as they do, but I can certainly tell you what they do.”
    â€œFollow one another like sheep?”
    She bit back a smile.
    â€œI suppose there is some truth in that,” he acknowledged. “I shall have to congratulate myself on having noticed you all on my own.”
    She looked over at him at that.
    â€œI am a man of discerning tastes.”
    She tried not to snort. Now he was really laying it on too thick. But she was glad of it. It was easier to remain indifferent when his compliments felt too deliberate.
    â€œI have no reason to doubt your observations,” he continued, leaning back in his chair as he watched the crowds milling about. “But as I am a man, and therefore one of your unknowing subjects—”
    â€œOh, please .”
    â€œNo, no, we must call a spade a spade.” He tilted his head toward hers. “All in the name of science, Miss Smythe-Smith.”
    She rolled her eyes.
    â€œAs I was saying,” he continued, in a voice that brazenly dared her to interrupt, “I believe I can shed some light upon your observations.”
    â€œI do have a hypothesis of my own.”
    â€œTsk tsk. You said you could not say why men act as they do.”
    â€œNot conclusively, but I would be appallingly lacking in curiosity if I did not ponder the matter.”
    â€œVery well. You tell me. Why are men such sheep?”
    â€œWell, now you’ve boxed me into a corner. How am I meant to answer that without giving offense?”
    â€œYou can’t, really,” he admitted, “except that I will promise that my feelings will not be hurt.”
    Iris let out a breath, hardly able to believe she was having such an irregular conversation. “You, Sir Richard, are not a fool.”
    He blinked. Then said, “As promised, my feelings are not hurt.”
    â€œAnd as such,” she continued with a smile—because really, who could have not smiled at that?—“when you take an action, other men will not immediately think you foolish. I imagine there are even a few young gentlemen out there who look up to you.”
    â€œYou are too kind,” he drawled.
    â€œTo continue,” she said, brooking no interruption, “when you ask a young lady to dance . . . More specifically, a young lady who is not known for dancing, others will wish to know why. They will wonder if you have seen something in her that they have not. And even if they look more closely and still find nothing of interest, they will not wish to be thought ignorant. So they will ask her to dance, too.”
    He didn’t say anything right away, so she added, “I suppose you think me cynical.”
    â€œOh, without a doubt. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
    She turned toward him in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
    â€œI think we should conduct a scientific experiment,” he announced.
    â€œAn experiment,” she repeated. What on earth was he about?
    â€œSince you have observed my fellow gentlemen as if we were