The Secrets of Sir Richard Kenworthy

“Well, I suppose we have a ship to launch,” Richard said, holding out his hand as he came to his feet. “I feel I should tell you, though,” he said as Iris rose and took his arm, “I had a similar boat as a boy.”

Iris winced at his tone. “Why do I think this does not end well?”

“Sailing is not in the Kenworthy blood, I’m afraid.”

“Well, that’s all right. I should miss you too much if you took to the sea.”

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Richard dropped her hand. “I have something for you.”

“You do?”

“Wait right there.” He left the room, returning a moment later with his hands behind his back. “Close your eyes.”

Iris rolled them, then closed them.

“Open!”

She did, and then gasped. He was holding a single long-stemmed iris, the most beautiful bloom she’d ever beheld. The color was brilliant—not quite purple, not quite red.

“It’s from Japan,” Richard said, looking inordinately pleased with himself. “We’ve been growing them in the orangery. We’ve had a devil of a time keeping you away.”

“From Japan, though,” Iris said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe—”

“I would go to the ends of the earth,” Richard murmured, leaning down to brush her lips with his.

“For a flower?”

“For you.”

She looked up at him with shining eyes. “I wouldn’t want you to, you know.”

“To go to the ends of the earth?”

She shook her head. “You’d have to take me with you.”

“Well, that goes without saying.”

“And Bernie.”

“Oh, of course.”

“And—” Oops.

“Iris?” Richard said carefully. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

She gave him a sheepish smile. “We might need room for four on that journey.”

His face broke into a slow smile.

“I’m not positive,” she warned him. “But I think . . .” She paused. “Where is the end of the earth?”

He grinned. “Does it matter?”

She smiled back. She couldn’t help it. “I don’t suppose it does.”

He took her hand, kissed it, and then led her out into the hall. “It will never matter where we are,” he said softly, “just so long as we’re together.”