Page 63 of The Queen of Roses

“No one has noticed,” he insisted.

“Margot has.”

He snorted. “She would.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Your cousin has done nothing but find fault from the moment she stepped off that train. She came to Pasadena intent on looking down her nose at us. At me.”

She reared back. “That is absurd.”

“If that is what you feel compelled to tell yourself—”

“I do not feel compelled to tell myself anything. You need to honor your promise earlier that you would drink no more,” she argued.

“What does it matter if I have a whiskey or two?”

“It matters very much, and I can assure you everyone is watching. Do not forget that the higher someone climbs, the farther they fall.”

He scoffed. “No one wishes to see me fall.”

“Do not be so sure of that.” She drew herself up. “We should return to supper before someone notices our absence.”

She feared for a moment that her husband might protest, but instead he grunted and begrudgingly offered her his arm. Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. She had not married a fool. He knew what was at stake.

They were nearly to the dining room door when there was the swishing of taffeta skirts, and Adele spotted Mrs. Barnes coming out of the ballroom door.

“Hello.” Mrs. Barnes glanced between Adele and Guy. “I didn’t realize you had stepped out.”

Adele gave her friend a smile. It was no one’s business what had transpired between her husband and her—not even Mrs. Barnes.

“The chef had a question for Guy,” she lied.

“Well, we cannot have any uncertainty about dinner. I have been looking forward to Monsieur Archambeau’s food since I heard you had tempted him away from Claridge’s.”

Adele turned to her husband as she slid her hand from his arm. “We are neglecting our guests, dearest, and we would not want to keep Mrs. Barnes from her supper.”

“Please, Mrs. Barnes,” said Guy, offering their friend his now-vacant arm.

Adele watched the society matron accept her husband’s escort as she followed behind, praying that Mrs. Barnes wouldn’t notice quite how bright Guy’s eyes were, or how his breath still held the faintest reek of alcohol.

chapter twenty-three ADELE

The rising sun set the normally sandy brown San Gabriel Mountains ablaze in pink and orange as the last guests bid Adele goodbye from the entrance of the Colorado Grand. She gave a little wave and then, as soon as all the carriages and cabs had driven off, she let out a long breath.

“Thank Christ they’re gone,” Guy muttered next to her.

“Guy,” she chastised, even though she, too, was quietly glad that it was finally over. It had been a relief when Mama and Papa had begged off around three o’clock in the morning, followed by Margot and James about an hour later.

He offered her his arm, and they began to descend the steps to their own waiting carriage. “You cannot honestly tell me that you wished to spend any more time in Lochery’s company.”

She smiled wearily as they fell into the companionable chatter of a married couple.

“I will confess I was surprised that he seemed so keen to stay until the bitter end.”

“It’s because he’s still in love with you,” he teased, almost as though their earlier argument had never happened.

“Mr. Lochery is not in love with me.”