CHAPTER FOURThrough a cloud of cigar smoke, Rosella could see that Mr. Algernon Merriman had fallen forward onto the table and was fast asleep, his cheek resting on his arms.
The flickering candlelight illuminated a bald patch on the crown of his head, which she had not noticed before.
It was a long time since Rosella had dined with any gentlemen at New Hall, as her Aunt Beatrice had very few guests, but she knew that Lord Brockley and Mr. Merriman should leave the table and go to the smoking room to enjoy their port and cigars.
A strange whistling noise, accompanied by a series of loud grunts, came from Algernon. He was snoring.
Rosella could not bear it any longer, so she pushed her chair back and rose to her feet.
“If you will excuse me, my Lord,” she began, but Lord Brockley waved
