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Adele, thrown by the sudden shift in the conversation, slowly sank down in a chair. “I am only twenty-two.”

“Twenty-two with several unsuccessful Seasons behind you. Your time is running short, Adele.”

Humiliation rose up in her as she fixed her gaze on a spot on the wall of the sitting room where the green-and-gold-patterned wallpaper was beginning to peel back. “That is not fair. I attended all the right parties during the Season, and I was invited to several balls in Ireland around the Dublin Horse Show. I had to decline those because Aunt Hyacinth could not attend as well.”

“You received one invitation to Dublin, and that was only because Margot was also invited by the girl’s family.” Mama closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Hyacinth also writes that other young ladies find you prickly and superior and therefore make no effort to introduce you to their brothers. You are asked to dance by eligible men out of duty, but they do not seek you out again for the pleasure of your company.

“In spite of your many flaws, Adele, you are not unintelligent,” Mama continued. “You understand how society works. One small slight can sometimes become compounded by other things. Other women may be jealous. Men can believe that a certain taint has fallen over a girl for nothing more than her belief that she should marry well. I believe that is what has happened to you, and I am now convinced that you will never make a success in London.”

There was a unique, crushing disappointment in hearing her mother acknowledge that Adele had failed at the one thing expected of her: marriage.

“If I only had one more Season when I return from Pasadena—”

Mama shook her head. “I will not impose upon my sister any more than we already have. Hyacinth has Margot’s wedding to tend to. There is no time for her to ferry you through a fourth Season that will only bring you closer to ending up on the shelf.”

“But I must return to London by the spring. I am Margot’s bridesmaid.”

“One of her bridesmaids,” Mama corrected. “Margot will be married by the time the next Season begins, and where will you be? I will not have my daughter floating around ballrooms in perpetuity, a figure to be pitied.

“Now, respectable families from all over America come to Pasadena every winter, and they bring with them their sons. There may not be as many eligible men here as in London, but there will be some. It is my intention that at the end of Pasadena’s winter season, you will be engaged to be married. Whether that man is Mr. Lochery, Mr. Whitley, or someone else entirely is your choice so long as he can provide for you.”

A slow horror began to creep up her throat. “Engaged to an American, Mama? Really?”

“As far as I can tell, Adele, they are the only men left who haven’t examined you and found you lacking.”

Adele sank into a chair as the harshness of the words hit her like a slap.

“I wish it had not come to this,” Mama continued with a shake of her head. “Perhaps I was too ambitious in my hopes for your future husband. Perhaps I should have tempered my expectations of how high you could aim, as Hyacinth did for Margot. She was always telling me that it would not do to push you girls too much, but you have advantages Margot does not.”

Adele flushed, hating to hear herself compared to her beloved cousin, yet she knew Mama was right. She had an elegance that Margot did not possess, and she was more composed in conversation, carrying herself with a poise that her quieter cousin could not muster. Yet the reality was that Margot was engaged to be married, and Adele was not.

“I could have been married by now, Mama, but you were the one who encouraged me to turn down Mr. Bates.”

“You speak out of turn, Adele,” Mama snapped.

Before Adele could push back, the door to her father’s bedroom opened.

“What is this? Long faces among my sweet women?” he asked, looking between them as he leaned heavily on his cane.

Adele’s heart broke at the sight of him. Without his jacket on, she could see the way his once-tailored waistcoat hung away from his body and how his neck stuck out of his shirt collar like a stick. What good was this wretched California climate doing when he seemed more depleted than ever?

“Adele behaved very badly at Mrs. Barnes’s card party, Benjamin,” said Mama, as though Adele was a child of five who had managed to smear mud on the hem of her dress before church.

“I say, that cannot be true. Adele’s manners have always been impeccable,” said Papa.

“That is because it isn’t true, Papa. I merely answered honestly when Mrs. Barnes asked me what I thought made a gentleman.”

“After Mrs. Barnes had taken the time to praise Mr. Whitley, and in front of Mrs. Gill, of all people,” Mama added.

“But, Adele, I was under the impression that you enjoyed your conversation with Mr. Whitley at Mrs. Barnes’s dinner,” said Papa.

“I will admit that Mr. Whitley can be amusing, but whether I enjoyed it or not is neither here nor there. He speaks openly of money and ambition,” she said.

“Now, Adele, ambition is not an undesirable trait in a young man,” said Papa.

“Mr. Whitley is one of the city’s most eligible bachelors,” said her mother.

“Oh, Mama. You speak as though you mean for me to encourage Mr. Whitley with an eye to marriage,” she said.