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Adele laughed. “It hardly recommends her school if she has become wild in her time there.”
“Oh, she is not wild, Mrs. Whitley. Far from it. She’s become quite the lady, with a propensity for spending to match. If I don’t keep a careful eye on her, she will be off to the dressmaker like a shot. Two weeks later, an entire wardrobe of new gowns will appear on my doorstep. I don’t know where she gets it from.”
Adele raised a brow. “Have you decided whether your new Sargent will hang in the drawing room or the dining room? I know you were debating the question when I saw you last.”
“You aren’t implying that I’m a spendthrift, are you, Mrs. Whitley?”
“Never, Mrs. Barnes.”
Mrs. Barnes laughed. “I suspect you’re right that there might be something learned in her behavior. The sooner I launch this girl on society, the better.”
“I’m honored that you chose Guy’s ball for her debut,” Adele said.
“It was never a question. Besides, it will do her good to have friendly hosts.” Something over Adele’s shoulder must have caught Mrs. Barnes’s eye because she stopped herself. “Goodness, there is Elizabeth. She’s shot up like a beanpole since I last saw her. I cannot imagine what Mama was thinking sending her out in a dress that’s hardly long enough. I suppose I’ll have to take her to the dressmaker after all or risk her ankles being on full display.”
As Mrs. Barnes waved, Adele caught sight of a striking young lady whose strawberry blond hair was bound up in a chignon on the top of her head. She was followed by a traveling companion, who scurried along behind her long-legged charge looking more than a little harried. Adele was about to comment on the companion’s expression when she spotted a small woman dressed in light pink with a mauve hat perched on her very fair hair, and everything else slipped from her mind.
Margot.
“Is that rather elegant fair woman with the white sash your cousin?” asked Mrs. Barnes.
“It is.”
“Your coloring is different, but even from here I can see the family resemblance,” said Mrs. Barnes.
“Excuse me. Booth!” Adele called over her shoulder.
The manservant she had brought to help with the bags leapt down from his seat next to their driver, Flitch, and helped Adele down. It took every bit of restraint for her not to cry out and run to her cousin as she watched Margot scan the crowd of well-wishers and porters bustling around outside of the railway station. When finally Margot’s eyes alighted on Adele, they lit up.
“Adele,” said Margot, moving serenely toward her with open arms. Adele allowed herself to be folded into her cousin’s embrace.
“You look very well,” she said.
Margot laughed. “I did not think that moving to America would make you a liar. I look like a woman who has been on a train for more days than she should care to admit.”
Adele set her cousin at arm’s length to study her. Margot’s cheeks had a lovely glow to them, like the first light of dawn creeping up over the San Gabriel Mountains, and she had filled out a bit more, looking less like the wisp of a reed that she had been at eighteen.
“You are beautiful as always,” Adele announced before turning her attention to Margot’s husband, who hovered near his wife’s shoulder. She stretched out her hand. “Cousin James.”
“Adele,” he said, taking her hand and bowing over it. “It is good to see you.”
“And you,” she said. “You must be tired and looking forward to refreshment. Booth will make all the necessary arrangements to see that your things are taken to the house by cart.”
She showed Margot and James to the carriage, and as James was helping his wife climb aboard, Adele caught Mrs. Barnes’s eye.
“Come to tea tomorrow, Mrs. Whitley, and bring your guests,” called Mrs. Barnes.
Adele laughed. “Write to me with the time, and we will be happy to call on you.”
As Mrs. Barnes instructed her driver to ride off, James turned to Adele and helped her up. Settled in the carriage next to Margot, Adele set about arranging her white skirts trimmed in wide black ribbon.
“Is Guy not here?” asked Margot as James took the seat across from them.
It only took Adele a split second to let her features fall into the perfect picture of neutrality. The truth was, she had argued with Guy that morning about his insistence that she greet her cousin at the railway station alone.
“She is your kin, and I have work to do ahead of the opening,” he’d said.
“She and James are our guests, Guy,” she’d pushed back in a lowered tone so his valet, who was in the dressing room that connected their bedrooms, would not be able to hear.