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Adele said hello to Mrs. Jarrett at the front door of the Gables and then dragged herself slowly up the stairs to her suite of rooms, leaning heavily on the carved banister as she went.

In her bedroom, she waited while Maggie drew her a bath and then allowed her maid to help her from her clothes. She sank into the near-scalding water, steam billowing around her. After she had soaked for a good long while, she washed her hair and then, after sitting by the fire one of the scullery maids had built up to help dry it, she dressed for supper with Maggie’s help.

With Guy out for the evening, Adele faced a supper alone with Mama, a prospect she dreaded owing to the censure that was surely to come with it. Sure enough, as soon as Adele joined her mother in the drawing room, Mama looked up from her book, swiftly assessing her.

“You were out for rather a long time today,” said Mama by way of greeting.

Adele sighed, remembering the wonder that had been having the house entirely to herself. How long ago that now seemed.

“I was at Rosewood House,” she said.

“One might think you live there and not the Gables for how often you are up there.”

“The garden at Rosewood House needs my attention. There is a great deal still to be done.”

“That is what one hires people for, my dear,” said Mama, turning a page of her book with a flick.

“The gardener and his team need instructions,” she pointed out. “It is a large project they are undertaking, and I am the one who drew up the initial designs.”

Mama looked at her over the half-moon crescent of her reading glasses. “No gardener worth his salt needs quite so many instructions, Adele.”

Something in her mother’s voice made her shift from annoyed to wary. “Are you trying to imply something, Mama?”

“Do not take that tone with me,” her mother chastised.

Adele drew in a steadying breath. Her mother was sitting in Adele’s house, eating at her table, and yet she could not deny that whatever she felt in the way of grief for her father Mama must be feeling in spades. She should afford Mama a degree of grace.

“I apologize, Mama. I merely did not understand your meaning.”

Mama set her book aside. “I am simply pointing out that anyone would question why you find it necessary to spend quite so much time at Rosewood House when you have responsibilities here.”

“I am more than fulfilling my responsibilities at the Gables. Cook has her instructions every day. Mrs. Jarrett knows my feelings about the day-to-day running of the house and is more than capable of seeing to it that the staff carry out my wishes.”

“You should be here, at home, with me. Remembering your father, not with another man.”

A bubble of laughter escaped her lips. “Mama, you could hardly call Macalister ‘another man.’ He is my employee—my married employee—not a bachelor prowling ballrooms looking for married ladies to seduce.”

“Adele!” Mama looked away as though disgusted by the very thought. “I am merely suggesting that you consider how it might look to other people, you up at that house alone with that man.”

“I am never alone, Mama. Hildy is there, and Macalister often has hired men working under him. It is perfectly respectable.”

“If you believe that, you are not showing the good judgment I thought I had instilled in you as a girl.”

It was a barb that might have once stung, but now Adele merely sighed with irritation.

“I am shocked, Mama, that you of all people would accuse me of behaving without propriety. As you said, I am your daughter and surely my behavior reflects on you.”

Mama lifted a hand to her chest as though offended. “I am simply trying to protect you from what people might think.”

“I’m dashed tired of worrying about what other people think,” Adele snapped. How many parties, balls, suppers, teas, and endless calls had she made, knowing full well that every single lady there was watching her? Why could she not have something like the garden at Rosewood House that was simply, entirely her own without worrying about the scrutiny of others?

“Adele! Your language—”

Adele held up her hand. “Enough, Mama.”

Mama looked affronted by the interruption. “Do not silence me, Adele. I am your mother.”

“And, I will remind you, a guest in my home.”