CHAPTER THREEThat evening a letter was brought in on a tray for Sir Uriel where he sat with Rosaleena and her mother by the drawing room fire.
Sir Uriel opened it and gave a snort.
“It’s from that wretch, Colonel Joyce,” he said.
Rosaleena’s heart skipped a beat as he glanced at her and then read the letter aloud,
“Dear Sir Uriel,
I must thank you for granting me the hospitality of your house. I passed a most enlightening evening. Please convey my greetings to Lady Rosscullen and her daughter.
Yours etc.,”
“If there’s one thing I detest, its sarcasm!” growled Sir Uriel, before crumpling up the letter and throwing it contemptuously aside.
For the next hour Rosaleena eyed it where it lay just beyond the fender.
When her uncle retired and while her mother dozed, she hurriedly retriev
