They were still sitting together and discussing Boston and their abbreviated wedding plans when Bethiah's father entered the house. He smiled at them and shook his head when they hastily released each other's hands. Though he seemed to have a curiosity in his gaze toward Bethiah, he shook Levi's hand when he stood to greet him.

"Have you decided not to allow this war to delay your marriage plans any longer?" he asked. 

Bethiah nodded, not at all surprised by her father's correct suspicion. "We've decided to simply have the wedding as soon as it may be arranged. Perhaps it will prevent Mr. Osborn from continuing to attempt to win me away from Levi."

"Osborn?" Levi asked, appearing confused. "Lucas Osborn, the lawyer?"

"The very same."

Levi scoffed. "Of course he thinks he's the better husband for you. He's a Tory."

She laughed. "He is, indeed. A Tory, not a better choice of husband."

Her father smiled and shook his head. "You have always been the only man Bethiah has allowed to know her mind in any way," he told Levi. "I must say you have always been my choice of husband for her, since you were both children. You have always been a good friend to her, and your father to our family."

Levi cleared his throat. "Thank you, sir."

Her father smiled again. "I am very happy for you both. I believe you will be quite happy together."

Bethiah smiled at Levi. "I believe so as well."

Levi smiled back at her.

Later that evening, after Levi had returned to his father's home, Bethiah sat with her father in the parlor.

"I'm quite happy that you will be marrying someone who respects you entirely," her father began, "but I do hope I haven't driven you away from desiring a family with my own concerns."

Bethiah shook her head, only slightly surprised by the return to the same conversation they had previously had. Of course, now that her marriage to Levi wasn't at some unknown distant point her father would surely be concerned once more. "I have never wanted children, and it wasn't caused by you It's simply how I feel. I don't know who would wish to be raising children with such a war going on, as it is."

"The war won't last forever," her father reminded her.

"And what will happen when it ends?" she asked. "Will we all be punished by England for our rebellion? Will there be a new country that can't decide how to govern itself? That is too much uncertainty to raise a child in."

He sighed. "Beth, the world is full of uncertainty. My grandparents came here without knowing if they could survive the voyage or if they could establish themselves in the colonies. Your aunt Maggie and I were the only children of six to survive childhood. There have been wars and diseases that have plagued the lives of all our generations of families, and yet somehow here we are, living despite the uncertain times they raised their children in. I'm not attempting to sway your decision, but that is the truth. I don't wish you to look back with regret when you are old and wish you had brought children into this world, despite the uncertainty that will always cling to our lives."

Bethiah looked away, understanding that he was simply concerned for her as a father should be. She would need to be more frank than she had previously been to make certain he understood her. "It is not the life for me," she told him. "I have no desire for the... acts that lead to children. And yes, I have heard enough gossip from the ladies in Ms. Goodwell's shop to know something about it beyond what you asked Aunt Maggie to discuss with me. Levi also has no intention of having children, and he, too, has little desire for the things that often lead to children."

Her father looked thoughtful for a long moment. Finally, he chose not to address her lack of desire and instead ask, "Is he a sodomite then?"

The question was asked without a hint of disgust or judgement in the tone, much to her surprise. He'd hinted at the question before, asked in different ways, but this was the most direct his questioning had ever been. Perhaps this was also because the engagement was so close to its end, and so abruptly. The conversation was not one she would have chosen to have with her father, even if it had not involved her future husband. Her father was a man of the law, and she assumed he would allow that to shape his opinions on such matters. It was why he had at first not supported the rebel cause, though he had never truly been a Tory. Only the occupation of Philadelphia had completely changed his opinion on the matter. It seemed he could possibly be reasonable and kind when it came to Levi, but she recalled Levi's warning, so many years ago, to never speak of his confession to anyone. It was her duty, as not only his betrothed but as his friend, to protect him.

It seemed she had hesitated too long in answering, as her father said, rather gently, "I would not judge him if he were, nor would I be upset with you marrying him. Regardless of anything, he has been a very dear friend to you and has done you no wrong that you have ever disclosed to me. I already know he earns a portion of his income from illegal smuggling and barely-legal piracy, so do not be concerned about my relation to the law. I have met a few sodomites who are quite content and safe in marriages with good friends."

"You have?" she asked, surprised.

"Why do you suppose Mr. Bailey's haberdashery is connected to Mr. Row's tailor shop? The upstairs rooms are connected into one home, as well. I assisted Mr. Bailey in a sodomy trial when you were quite young. This was shortly before he married Mrs. Bailey and years before Mr. Row moved to the city. I was the only one willing to defend him. Thankfully, he was cleared of charges as they were only hearsay. Friends of his told him to marry any female friend who would take him to avoid such a trial again. Much of the city has suspicions regarding Mr. Bailey and Mr. Row, but they don't bother with it."

"What of Mr. Row? He isn't married."

Her father leaned back in his chair. "Any accusations would likely involve Mr. Bailey, one would assume. If they were to involve someone else, perhaps things would be different. For now, it doesn't seem as though anyone else is involved in the story. Though, I have noticed Mr. and Mrs. Bailey's children look more closely related to their mother and one might say nothing at all like the man who is expected to be their father. Perhaps another is involved after all. In truth, every person's business should be their own and no one else's. Society is far too concerned with what it should not be concerned with. Perhaps the cruel treatment of native neighbors and the demons of slavery should be a larger concern than personal pleasures."

"Yes," Bethiah agreed, happy to distract her father from the conversation about Levi. "But that is how the larger society distracts itself from the larger concerns, is it not? The focus is turned to more immediate, less important concerns so to avoid thinking of the larger ones that should be dealt with?"

He nodded. "Indeed. It is too challenging to consider a system of mass-violation of natural rights and think of ending it when so many have gotten their wealth from it. And so the more present, smaller issues are made more important to them. It is a terrible thing."

"It is."

"Returning to your future husband," her father continued, "I only hope that he is careful and does not cause you any harm. I hope that he is discrete in his choice of partners and does not need to endure a difficult trial, as it would be difficult for you, as well."

Bethiah, though still aware of the dangers of speaking of the truth of the matter, was comforted enough by her father's words to assure him, "I was led to believe he has a regular partner who lives in his home."

Her father appeared surprised. "Oh? I certainly hope he is kind to you."

"He has been quite friendly in all our interactions in the past. I also consider him a friend."

He appeared thoughtful for a moment, then the surprise returned. "Surely not Mr. Goodman?"

She nodded. "That is what he expressed to me."

Her father nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose that may be natural for life-long friends to become lovers."

"They certainly have always been dear friends," she agreed.

"Have you considered how you will address not having children to anyone who asks?" he questioned.

"We'll simply say we've been unable to have any," she replied with a shrug. "There are plenty of women who are unable to have children, and men unable to father any."

"Of course. The simplest answer is always best. Perhaps you should eventually ask female friends in Boston if they have any remedies to help with such a thing, at some time in the future. It may help keep any questions at bay."

She smiled. "That is an excellent idea. I will."

They were quiet for a moment, then her father went on, "And in consideration of your mention of a lack of desire, perhaps I understand that more than I thought before. Perhaps that is another reason why I never married again and why you were our first child after five years of marriage. There are things that have never been of great concern to me. Perhaps it is not only the enduring love for your mother that keeps me from doing more than simply observing a lovely woman. I always considered lusty men to be a strange few, but I have grown to realize they are larger in number than those of us with larger concerns and more important thoughts than of pleasure. I'm very happy you will be able to continue living in such a way with a husband who will accept this of you."

Bethiah smiled and squeezed his hand. "Thank you." 

Her heart soared from their conversation, from the love she felt from him for her and for her future. He accepted Levi as her husband, her desire not to be a mother, and he understood her lack of desire for the pleasures that may lead to children. She felt loved and understood, and she felt she understood him more, as well. She had always loved him, of course, but she felt they shared something few others shared with their parents.