Miss Carlyle's Curricle: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) by Karen Harbaugh Read Free Book Online

mother did not want her to see. Anger rose in her—it was no use talking to her mother, for it was clear that she would tell her nothing . . . for now.
    Diana gazed in silence out the window while she tried to quell her anger. It was still cloudy, but had not rained for a few hours. Perhaps she could go out on her horse again, or in a carriage. . . .
    Her thoughts came immediately to the curricle she had inherited, and she shuddered. It was hers now. She had driven it before . . . before her uncle died, and he had told her that she was the best whip he had ever seen. He had been proud of her, and she had wished then that he had been her father. It could not be, however, but there was one thing she could do: have the curricle repaired and drive it as he had taught her. It mattered not that it was unusual for a woman to drive such a vehicle. Her uncle had given it to her, and he had meant her to drive it.
    She stood up abruptly. “Mama, I am going down to the stables to look at the curricle.”
    Mrs. Carlyle looked up from her work, her eyes widening.
    “Is this wise?”
    Diana gazed at her quizzically. “I am not afraid, Mama. There is nothing it can do to me, after all.”
    “But it needs repair . . .”
    Diana smiled slightly. “Of course I’ll not drive it! I am merely going to look at it. Perhaps I shall talk to McKinney about the repairs it needs.”
    Mrs. Carlyle looked worried. “I do not know what seized Charles to bequeath it to you. It is not proper or safe.”
    Diana rolled her eyes. “Oh, Mama! How is it you don’t question Uncle’s judgment where my marriage is concerned, but you question this? You know I have driven it any number of times. And what do you think will happen to me in the stables? That the carriage will somehow fall upon me? It can do nothing while it is sitting there in the stables, I assure you!”
    Her mother still looked worried, and Diana took her hands and pressed them. “What, do you think Uncle Charles might be haunting it in some way? I would welcome seeing him again, I believe.”
    Mrs. Carlyle smiled slightly. “As would I, for I am sure if he were a ghost he would be caring for us still. No . . .I am a silly woman to be sure. It must be as you say. Do go, then, and see what you can find out from McKinney.”
    Diana turned to leave, but her mother’s hand stayed her. “Did you see where Mr. Sinclair went before we left the library?”
    “No, why?”
    “We cannot be sure he will let us stay here at Brisbane House, you know, and I think it best to find out whether he means for us to stay or go.”
    “So soon?” Diana asked. Her mother merely looked at her gravely and said nothing, and Diana knew it was necessary. “I . . .I don’t remember. I suppose he might be in his room—certainly he looked as if he might fall asleep where he sat during the reading of the will.”
    Her mother nodded. “I will find him and ask.”
    “Will you need me, do you think?”
    Mrs. Carlyle smiled. “No, it is not necessary. Do go to see the curricle. Mr. Sinclair seems a kind gentleman, perhaps enough to house us while we find a place to settle, at least.”
    Diana nodded slowly, and with a kiss on her mother’s cheek, proceeded down to the stables.
    When Diana reached the stables, she saw that they had a new stablehand. She smiled at him briefly before saying, “Where is Bob Staples?”
    The thin, awkward youth smiled shyly and took off his hat, ducking his head. “‘E got ill, miss, did Bob. Started squeaking about ‘is blinkers, and McKinney sent ‘im ‘ome, and Bob sent me to take ‘is place—I’m ‘is cousin, miss, beggin’ yer pardon.”
    “His eyes?” Diana frowned. “I am sorry to hear it—is a doctor seeing to him? I hope it is not serious.”
    The stablehand rubbed his forehead in thought. “I dunno, miss. But me aunt ‘as got summat to fix it.”
    Diana fished in her pocket for some coins and pressed them into the youth’s hand.