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“At this time of year, it leaves the mountains and foothills susceptible to wildfires that spread quicker than you can blink.”

“How terrible,” she said.

“I’m afraid fire is a great threat here, although down in the San Gabriel Valley, where we are, it’s more often than not sparks from chimneys like the fire that burned down the Raymond Hotel.”

The mention of a hotel reminded Adele of what she was there to do. She drew in a breath and launched into the little speech she had prepared.

“Mrs. Barnes, I feel I must apologize for any insult I might have—”

“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t,” said Mrs. Barnes as they reached the end of the long border and turned right into a sort of garden room created by a hedge of sweet-smelling greenery. “I meant what I wrote in my note. I enjoy a lively bit of conversation, and it can be difficult to find someone who is a worthy sparring partner,” said Mrs. Barnes with a smile. “However, I have the impression your mother might not share my view.”

Adele gave a little laugh. “No. No, she was quite disappointed in me and my behavior.”

“That can happen with mothers. I certainly disappointed mine on many occasions. Best not to let it bother you too much. Would you care to sit?” Mrs. Barnes gestured to an iron bench set out in front of a fountain.

“Thank you,” she said.

They settled on the bench, for a moment sitting in silence to listen to the falling water.

“Am I correct in remembering that you have a daughter?” Adele asked.

“Elizabeth. She soundly resents me because she believes that it is high time I bring her out,” said Mrs. Barnes with a shake of her head. “I tell her that I did not make my debut until I was eighteen.”

“As did I,” said Adele. “Did you come out in New York?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Barnes, “and I loathed every moment of it. I knew it was nothing more than a charade because my parents had long settled on a husband for me.”

“Really?” It was difficult to imagine anyone ordering this outspoken, confident woman to do anything she did not wish.

“Raymond was a prominent member of Boston society with good connections in New York. He was also quite a bit older than me, and his health had never been robust. We were, in many ways, utter opposites, and I was convinced that our marriage would be a disaster. Aside from gardening, he liked nothing more than to sit in front of the fire with his books, whereas I thrive in company. As soon as I married Raymond, however, I learned that there was something to be gained from being a married woman.”

“What was that?” asked Adele.

Mrs. Barnes’s lips curved into a smile. “Choice. No longer could my parents order me from place to place, dictating where I went and who I saw. Raymond trusted me to be a good wife. So long as I didn’t ask too much of him, he was content to leave me to organize my time as I saw fit unless he was required to accompany me to the occasional ball or the opera. Our conversations would be held while in the garden or over the dinner table.

“In time, Elizabeth came into our lives, and she was enough for him. He never cared all that much about a son, and I found that suited me just fine.”

Mrs. Barnes sighed. “When he died, I mourned for him as any wife should, but then I moved on with my life as I believe Raymond would have wanted. My mother assumed I would marry again to give Elizabeth a living father, but without Raymond I found New York once again intolerable. Instead, I moved to California. I was a woman of newly independent means, and I fully intended to live as I wished. Although some in Pasadena cling to tradition, there is room here for those of us who wish to live a little differently.”

“And yet I have heard you praised as one of the doyennes of Pasadena society,” Adele said.

Mrs. Barnes laughed. “Just because I wish to buck what I saw in New York does not mean I do not enjoy some of the trappings of society life. I simply wish for the freedom to pick and choose what suits me best.”

The older woman twisted on the bench to catch Adele’s gaze. “Miss Pearce, I hope you will forgive my forthrightness, but I can only assume that, since your mother has summoned you to Pasadena at the beginning of our season, she intends for you to marry one of our bachelors.”

Adele watched the fountain’s dancing water, weighing how wise it would be to confide in this woman. Finally, she asked, “Is it so very obvious?”

“Given that your mother subtly suggested that I might like to seat you next to Mr. Whitley at your first dinner party, I could only have guessed as much. Marriage-hunting mamas have a certain look about them,” said Mrs. Barnes.

Her mother would be mortified to hear that she had been so obvious.

“There is no shame in any woman wishing for her daughter to marry well,” Mrs. Barnes continued. “The truth of the matter is that most women are still dependent upon first their fathers and then their husbands for their security. It is only natural that a mother would wish her daughter to make an advantageous marriage.”

“Is that what you will seek for your own daughter?”

Mrs. Barnes tilted her head a little. “Elizabeth has some advantages that others do not. She is an heiress. I have no doubt, however, that she will wish to make a successful match. In many ways, she is far more like my mother than she is like me. I simply hope that when she chooses her husband, she chooses well and that, after her wedding dress is packed away in tissue, she heeds my advice.”

“What advice is that?” asked Adele.