Page 19 of The Queen of Roses

“And his business?” Mrs. Barnes probed.

“He should have none. Not if he is a gentleman,” said Adele.

Mrs. Barnes smiled. “And what of all those men I met in London with occupations. Barristers, physicians, and bankers? What of the men who own railways and shipping lines? Are they not gentlemen?”

“Mrs. Barnes, you must forgive my daughter. She is very new to Pasadena and hardly knows—”

Mrs. Barnes held up a hand. “Please, Mrs. Pearce. I value plain speaking in this house, and clearly your daughter is a young lady with well-formed opinions. I am curious to hear what she has to say.”

Mrs. Barnes’s invitation to speak felt like a trap, yet Adele had been raised knowing inherently who was a gentleman and who was decidedly not. Why, she had heard often enough from Mama how railway men and mill owners’ sons who inherited fortunes would never be able to completely wash off the faint stench of new money. It was only the grandsons—like Margot’s fiancé, Mr. Benson—and great-grandsons who could claim enough distance from the source of their families’ wealth to be called gentlemen.

Now at the card table, Adele said simply, “They are not. A gentleman does not work for his living.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Barnes, placing her card down in the center of the table, “in that case, I imagine you will find yourself hard-pressed to find any gentlemen in Pasadena at all, for so many of our men take great pride in their work.”

“I, for one, have always found that a man with an occupation shows greater character than one who is idle,” said Mrs. Gill with a sniff.

“Again, I must apologize for my daughter, Mrs. Barnes and Mrs. Gill. She is still tired from her travels.”

Mrs. Barnes raised a brow. “I doubt very much that fatigue has persuaded Miss Pearce to say anything she does not hold to be true.”

Adele’s cheeks began to burn. “I—”

“Nevertheless, it would be best if I took Adele home to rest,” said Mama, rising to her feet and placing a firm hand on Adele’s shoulder.

“Mrs. Guthrie will fetch your things,” said Mrs. Barnes.

“That is very kind of you, Mrs. Barnes,” said Mama, her hand tightening around the muscle at the base of Adele’s neck so that Adele had to fight off a wince. “Come along, my dear.”

Mama released her grip, and Adele’s shoulder dropped as she stood.

“Thank you, Mrs. Barnes. It has been a most enjoyable afternoon,” she said.

“I do hope it will be the first of many, Miss Pearce,” said Mrs. Barnes.

As Adele followed Mama out of the double drawing room doors, she wondered if Mrs. Barnes really meant it.

chapter eight ADELE

Mama did not speak to Adele the entire way back to their hotel. The moment that they were inside their suite, however, her mother rounded on her.

“What could have possessed you to be so rude to Mrs. Barnes?” Mama demanded.

“Rude?” asked Adele, astonished. “I was nothing but polite throughout the entire afternoon.” If anything, it was Mama who had been rude, cutting short their visit in the middle of a hand of whist.

“You told Mrs. Barnes that Mr. Whitley—a friend of hers—could not be a gentleman.”

“But he isn’t, Mama. He is a businessman in trade.”

Mama pressed a hand to her temple. “Adele, you must understand that things are different here. The American idea of a gentleman—it is not quite the same as ours. Businessmen are revered here.”

“And yet, in London, I very much doubt that you and Papa would have condescended to make an intimate friend of a man such as Mr. Whitley.”

Her mother pinned her with a hard stare. “You overstep, my dear.”

“I am sorry, Mama, but it is true.”

“Not everything is black and white, Adele. I had hoped to save you some embarrassment, but I believe you are old enough now that I can speak honestly about several matters.” Mama strode over to a sofa and sat down, crossing her hands over her knee. “You are in danger of finding yourself on the shelf.”