Page 124 of The Queen of Roses

Her mother twisted in her seat and then slowly lifted the net veil from her black hat. “This is not a social call.”

“I never imagined for one moment that it would be.”

“Do not be impertinent, Adele.” Mama’s eyes flicked over her. “What are you wearing?”

“Clothes.”

“I do not think taking up residency in a house in the middle of nowhere should be any reason to wear shabby clothes.”

“Rosewood House is hardly in the middle of nowhere. You arrived here yourself after less than an hour’s carriage ride,” she said.

“Nonetheless—”

“I was gardening, Mama. I hardly think it is appropriate to wear a ball gown to plant daffodils.”

Mama sniffed. “Gardening. That is all you seem to care about. That and this house.”

“Gardening brings me immense pleasure. Why should I not wish to spend my time on things that give me pleasure?” she asked.

“You have obligations, Adele. As a wife.”

She crossed her arms. “And what of my husband’s obligations to me?”

Mama shifted in her seat. “I have become aware that Guy has not been entirely prudent in his business dealings. That horrible Mr. Earl and other men have begun calling at the house, demanding money, and I was accosted by Mrs. Jackson in the street yesterday who demanded to know how I could stand to have a son-in-law who refused to pay his investors what he owes them. Nevertheless, he is your husband.”

“He lied to me, Mama. He led me and everyone else to believe that he was a shrewd businessman when the truth is he was drowning. He even engaged the services of a moneylender rather than speak to me.”

“Wives do not meddle in their husbands’ affairs,” said Mama.

“Perhaps we should. After all, you meddled in Papa’s.”

“That is because your father was a fool!” Mama shouted. The shock of hearing her mother’s usually quiet, controlled voice go shrill stilled Adele. “He nearly cost our family our dignity. Can you blame me for doing whatever I could to ensure that didn’t happen to you?”

“I blame you for not caring about what I wanted,” Adele said.

“You have exactly what you wanted, Adele. You are an ornament on the arm of an important man.”

Adele winced at her mother’s words. That might have been true once a long time ago, yet over the years that ambition had given way to something new. She no longer derived pleasure from the idea of being Guy’s trophy. She no longer cared about leading Pasadena society. What she wanted was to make her own choices.

She thought of the freedom Mrs. Barnes had promised her would come with marriage. Living under Mama and Papa’s rule, it had seemed so tempting to pin her hopes on Guy, yet she realized that as a married lady her fortunes would always be tied to her husband. His decisions had shaped her life. She had worked hard to serve what he wanted, shaping herself into a society hostess of the highest order, but now she could see that everything she had done was in service of a man who had not once considered how the risks he took might affect her life.

“Guy was dishonest about the foundation our lives were built on, and now that foundation is crumbling. I could have forgiven a great deal, but I will not forgive this,” Adele said.

“And what of me?” asked Mama.

“I beg your pardon?”

“What shall I do? There are people to consider other than yourself, Adele.”

“I’m afraid I do not understand,” she said.

“If you leave your husband, do you really imagine that he will continue to support me?” asked Mama.

No, of course he wouldn’t. Mama had done little to endear herself to Guy, and if he and Adele separated, she had no doubt that Guy would view his obligations to her mother as null and void—if he could even afford to fulfill them in the first place.

“If you wrote to Aunt Hyacinth, I am certain she would be happy to take you in,” she suggested.

“Are you really suggesting that I go to my sister with my hat in hand and beg for a place in her household like a poor relation?”