late Mrs. Sinclair is the next Earl of Brisbane, since the title goes to ‘heirs male whatsoever.’ Unusual, I know, but the first earl was not known to have been particularly, er, prolific, and King Charles II wished to bestow a great honor upon him and his family for the great deal of work he did to help restore the King to the throne.” He frowned as he looked at each one of them. “Did not his lordship mention this to you?”
“So that’s what he wanted to see me about,” Mr. Sinclair said softly, looking sleepier than ever and sinking deeper into the sofa cushions. “Well, well.”
Chapter 3
Diana turned and stared at Mr. Sinclair, who continued to lean back in his chair and regard Mr. Bennett with the same lazy expression he had worn throughout the reading of the will. Mr. Sinclair the heir, and not Sir James? She glanced at her mother, but Mrs. Carlyle only looked at her calmly before she turned her interested gaze to Mr. Bennett.
“No, he did not inform us,” Mr. Southworthy said, his face looking pinched, almost ill. “This is most irregular.”
“A pity,” Mr. Bennett replied. “However, his lordship was not one, usually, to reveal his intentions or his reasons to anyone regarding his estate.”
“A pity, indeed,” Sir James drawled. He turned to Mr. Sinclair. “Cousin, my congratulations.”
Mr. Sinclair inclined his head. “And to you, cousin, my condolences.”
Sir James laughed lightly. “One does not care to be choused out of an inheritance, to be sure. But I am a gamester, Mr. Sinclair, and am familiar with the risks of play.”
“But this
is
an inheritance,” Mr. Sinclair said gently.
For a moment Diana thought Sir James had cast him a sharp look, but it was gone, and she was sure she had imagined it, for Sir James merely shrugged.
“All life is a game, sir, and has its risks,” he said.
“Of course you are right,” Mr. Sinclair replied genially. “Then, too, you are next in line, are you not? Who knows what card fate will turn, after all.”
“You are a gamester, then, too?” Sir James asked.
Mr. Sinclair shuddered. “No, indeed I am not. I don’t care to take risks with games of chance.”
Sir James smiled slightly, and if his expression held a little contempt, Diana could not blame him. Mr. Sinclair was clearly a fashionable fribble, slothful to the point of not even caring to put anything to the risk. Slothful at best—perhaps even afraid, although she would not hand out such a judgment as to call him coward unless she saw clear evidence of it.
But if Mr. Sinclair noticed Sir James’s contempt, he showed no sign of it. He merely sank further into the chair cushions, and his expression became more sleepy than ever as Mr. Bennett finished the reading of the will.
***
The door to Mrs. Carlyle’s dressing room burst open, and Diana hurried in. “Mama, you
must
tell me—did you know that Mr. Sinclair is Uncle Charles’s heir?”
Mrs. Carlyle sat on a chair near the window, her workbasket of tatting threads open beside her. She gazed at her daughter and raised an eyebrow disapprovingly. “I don’t think I said you could enter, my dear.”
Diana gave her mother a mischievous glance and sat on a chair near her. “I know, but you would have let me regardless, because you did see how curious I was, and I
know
you know something about the bequests, so of course you must have expected I would hound you until I found out.”
“Terrible girl! Where you learned your manners, I do not know.” But Mrs. Carlyle did not hide her smile when she looked down at the lace she was tatting on her lap. “Oh, very well, then! I knew there was a possibility that Sir James was not.”
“Did Uncle Charles tell you?”
Sorrow passed over her mother’s face, then she shook her head and made another loop with the tatting bobbin. “Not precisely. I knew there was a possibility that Elizabeth Sinclair’s grandson was alive, but Charles did not know for certain. It was