Miss Carlyle's Curricle: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) Read Online Free PDF Page B

the spectacles on his nose. He peered at the papers before him. “There is an additional bequest, Miss Carlyle, one I am sure shows your uncle’s concern for your welfare.” The solicitor smiled encouragingly at her. “It says, ‘I also bequeath to Miss Diana Carlyle a stipend in the amount of seventy-five pounds per annum, and a dowry of an additional twenty thousand pounds per annum upon her marriage to the next Earl of Brisbane.”
    “What?!” Diana stared at Mr. Bartlett, amazement and horror hitting her at once. “But he said—I cannot—this is preposterous! How could he think—oh, no. Oh, dear heaven.” The bequest was an incredible fortune, but the conditions felt like a prison. She groaned and briefly covered her face before bringing her hands down, clenched, into her lap.
    Mr. Bartlett looked more uncomfortable than ever. “I am sure he meant it for the best, Miss Carlyle. He did mention the London Season you had, and how, er, none of the gentlemen seemed to be to your taste. I suppose he wished to secure your future before he departed this world.”
    She thought back to the words her uncle had spoken to her before he died, that he would provide for her. She had not thought on it until now, for she had always depended on her uncle to know what was best for her; had he not come to her and her mother’s rescue so many years ago? She had never protested his directives before—having a governess instead of going off to school, for example, or learning how to polish tack and curry a horse, even though such things were normally left for servants; she had generally found his orders sensible if not always pleasant. She had expected she would have nothing to protest now, either.
    But this! She cast a quick glance at Sir James and felt a little ill when he grinned at her. She thought of the stipend she’d been bequeathed—it would be enough to keep her in clothes if she were frugal enough and stayed at Brisbane House—but the dowry amounted to a fortune. It was very clear Uncle Charles wished her to marry and be the next Countess of Brisbane. He had been like a father to her . . . and she supposed this was the best way he could think of to give her the title, since he had no children of his own. She groaned again. She would refuse to marry, that was all there was to it. Glancing at Sir James, she saw his amused expression and she clenched her hands tighter—it was better than giving her tongue free rein to say what was on her mind.
    Uncle Charles had provided for her mother as well, for Mrs. Carlyle also received a stipend of seven hundred pounds per annum, and a provision should she marry again as well. Neither bequest was a fortune, except for Diana’s dowry. However, her and her mother’s combined income was perhaps enough for them to live comfortably, if modestly. Indeed, Diana thought, casting another quick glance at Sir James, she would prefer to forego the fortune, for though she was sure that her uncle had meant well, she did not think Sir James would make a satisfactory husband, despite his popularity with the ladies. Indeed, it was precisely that popularity that would keep him from being an ideal husband. Attractive or not, she had no faith in the idea that a rake could make a good one, for old habits died hard. A fortune was not worth a lifetime of misery. And though Sir James was known to be a successful gamester of extraordinary luck, she did not believe such luck typically lasted a lifetime.
    “And finally,” Mr. Bennett read, “‘I hereby bequeath to my heir, Gavin Sinclair, the grandson of my eldest aunt Mrs. Elizabeth Sinclair, she who was born Lady Elizabeth Carlyle, daughter of the Fifth Earl of Brisbane—’”
    “What?” Sir James rose swiftly from his chair, staring hard at the solicitor. “Who is this Gavin Sinclair? / have never heard of him before!”
    Mr. Bennett looked at the man over his spectacles. “Mr. Gavin Sinclair,” he said patiently, “as the grandson of the