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

being hangers-on to the new earl. She burned with humiliation, but kept her face serene and shrugged. “And there are more important things than that at the moment.” She hesitated, then said, “Have you seen McKinney, our head groom? I have not seen him since the day of the accident. He had given me his resignation, and I referred him to you, thinking you would be Uncle Charles’s heir.”
But then, you are not the heir
, she thought, and almost smiled to see irritation flash over Sir James’s face.
    He stared at her for a moment before saying, “No, he did not come to see me, cousin. I have not seen him since . . . I think it was the day the will was read.” A small crease formed between his eyebrows, but the rest of his face remained impassive. “Unfortunate,” he continued, “for I wished to speak to him myself.” Sir James took the reins of the horse and led it toward the stables.
    Diana looked at her cousin questioningly. “Is there something amiss?”
    “Only a few questions about the accident. I have no great confidence in the stability of that curricle.” His taut smile was a warning. “It would be best to sell it after it’s repaired. Or burn it, tethers and all, if the sight of it might cause you pain.”
    “I am not as weak as that,” Diana said, and lifted her chin. “I had thought of selling it, but I mean to have it repaired and drive it.”
    He gazed at her in silence for a moment, then his smile turned indulgent. “I wonder if you should.”
    “If you mean that there is something wrong with the curricle, then the problem should be fixed when it is repaired.”
    “And if that is not the problem?”
    “Are you suggesting that I cannot drive it?” Diana demanded. “I assure you, I have driven it any number of times before the accident. I have never had a problem with it before.”
    “
I
, however, have not seen you drive it without your uncle accompanying you.”
    “That is because you did not visit Brisbane House regularly, and so missed those occasions I drove it alone.”
    “That may be,” Sir James replied, “but that was before the accident.” He smiled skeptically. “Technique makes up more than half one’s driving skill, but confidence makes for the rest. I’m willing to wager your confidence has been severely shaken after seeing your uncle—ah, forgive me. It is a delicate subject, is it not? One that most ladies would prefer not to discuss.”
    Or have been present to see
, Diana mentally finished for him. She gazed at his bored expression, and realized what it was that always irritated her about Sir James. It was that dismissive air he wore whenever he spoke to her, as if her thoughts and words were trivial and her opinion of no consequence. It made her feel diminished, and she did not like it. Perhaps it was why she disliked London so, confined not only by the tight corsets her Aunt Matchett forced upon her, but by the circumscribed set of subjects her aunt had decided were fit for a lady to converse upon, and what events and functions a lady was allowed to attend.
    “Few
people
care to discuss such things, true,” she said carefully, not wanting to be put at a disadvantage. “However, such grievous incidents do happen, and it serves no one well to ignore the fact.”
    “Even so, a lady of
delicate
sensibilities would have avoided the situation altogether,” he said.
    There, it was out, he had said it at last—apparently she had no delicacy at all. Sir James clearly felt the realm of carriages and carriage races to be beyond the scope of understanding of women. She could have understood his reluctance to believe in her skill if he had not seen her drive, as Lord Brisbane—Gavin—had not. But Sir James had seen her drive, and it did not convince him. It made angry heat rush to her face, and she held her tongue between her teeth to keep from spitting out the hasty words that built up behind them.
    “I am glad I was there, Sir James,” she said evenly, when