“The long and short of it is,” Nathaniel finished up for her, “not one of the three suits your mother.” He gave Lily a little jab with his elbow, and winked at her. It was an old family joke, her mother's dissatisfaction with other teachers.

Elizabeth flushed a little but held up her chin. “Would you have less than the best possible teacher for the children of Paradise?”

“You know I wouldn't, Boots,” Nathaniel said. “But I got this feeling you're talking yourself clean out of hiring anybody at all.”

Elizabeth's mouth twitched, but she wouldn't rise to the teasing, not just now.

“That is not true. I will write again to Will and ask about graduates from the African Free School.”

“Cousin Will Spencer,” Lily said to Simon. “He's a trustee at the school, in Manhattan.”

Lily was in the habit of helping Simon through family discussions by throwing him bits of information. That more than anything else made it clear to Nathaniel that she meant to go ahead and marry the man.

Ballentyne knew how to listen and keep his thoughts to himself, but this time something passed over his face, a question that was easy enough to read. Elizabeth caught it as neatly as a tossed apple.

“You disapprove, Simon?”

Ballentyne met her gaze directly. “No,” he said shortly. “I don't disapprove. But I imagine it won't be easy, bringing in a black schoolteacher.”

Nathaniel watched his wife with equal parts wariness and curiosity. Elizabeth was studying Ballentyne from across the table, the small vertical line between her brows very pronounced. He knew what that meant, but Ballentyne might not understand, just yet, what he had let himself in for.

“Simon,” Elizabeth said on an indrawn breath. “I hope you are not the kind of man to run from a challenge.”

He gave her an easy grin. “I'm to marry your daughter, am I no?”

Nathaniel had to bite back a smile, and even Elizabeth could not help but nod in concession.

“You think the people of Paradise will not like such a person as a teacher?” Her tone had shifted a little.

“Of course they won't, Ma,” Lily said. “Why pretend otherwise? If you want to hire somebody from the Free School, you're going to have a fight on your hands. Why not just hire Manny, at least he'll have a chance.”

At the look on Elizabeth's face—surprise, revelation, and a good dose of irritation at her own witlessness—Nathaniel had to laugh. “There you go, Boots,” he said. “Problem solved, and cleverly.”

Elizabeth's mouth shut with a click. “I must admit, it certainly should have occurred to me. Manny graduated from the Free School, after all. I wonder that Curiosity never raised the topic.”

“Maybe Curiosity is more worried about the trouble it will cause than you are,” Lily suggested.

But Elizabeth either did not hear this very reasonable suggestion, or discounted it out of hand. She put fork down and rose from the table with a distracted air.

“Sit down, Boots,” Nathaniel said. “You can go talk to Curiosity and Manny after dinner. Another hour ain't going to make any difference, and there's another problem we got to put our minds to. With any luck we can solve it just as quick.”

Nathaniel saw Lily's back go very straight; she knew what it was, then, and so did Ballentyne, by the look on his face.

“What is it, Nathaniel?” Elizabeth asked, one hand on the swelling at her waist.

“It's the Reverend Stiles,” Ballentyne answered for him. “Isn't that so?”

“It is,” Nathaniel said. “Jed came to talk to me about it today. Stiles has got a nasty way with words, and he gets worse every day.”

“The Bill of Rights is very clear about free speech, Nathaniel,” Elizabeth said primly. It was her schoolmistress voice, and Nathaniel knew what was coming.

“The more attention you pay to the man, the happier he will be. Ignore him, and he will tire of his campaign soon enough.”

“Have you heard his preaching lately?” Ballentyne asked, his tone sharp enough to earn him one of Elizabeth's severest looks.

“I would not give him the pleasure,” she said coldly.

“I am glad to know it,” Ballentyne said. “For it would pain you to hear the things he's saying about Lily.”

Elizabeth's mouth twitched, but before she could speak, Nathaniel cut in. “Don't ask him to repeat it, Boots. I wouldn't let him even if he cared to say the words out loud.”

Lily put down her cup with a sharp sound. “And do I have anything to say about this?”

Elizabeth's expression cleared. “Of course you do. Would you like your father and your bridegroom to avenge your good name, Lily? Would tar and feathers be a suitable punishment, or do you have something else in mind?”

“For Christ's sake, Boots,” Nathaniel said, pushing out a sigh. “All I'm going to do is talk to the man. Weren't you just telling us about free speech being protected by the Constitution?”

She closed her eyes briefly and then opened them again, and managed a small smile. “I was. Very well, if Lily agrees I shan't object. The two of you go off to see what sense you can talk to the Reverend Stiles. I wish you an entertaining afternoon of it.”

“Lily?”

His daughter looked at him as if he were a child asking for another piece of pie he didn't need and shouldn't have. A strange thing, to have the girl grow up on him while his back was turned, but there it was.