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only thought—”
    She lifted her hand. “It’s not your fault, Mr. Winston. I gave you the wrong impression when I broke the rules of propriety. But...so you will
know
.” Her chin lifted. “I do not live
down
the hill. If I did, I would have been pleased to have you see me home.”
    The past tense was not lost on him. Nor was the fact that she would have accepted his escort. “Marissa—”
    â€œI live
up
the hill—at the very top. And I
do
have another escort, of a sort. My tent mate. You remember Miss Gordon. She is there—”
    He winced as she waved a hand toward the bench in front of the platform.
    â€œâ€”taking notes for her article in the
Sunday School Journal
. I will walk home with her when the class is over and her work is done. Now, I suggest you hurry, lest you miss your steamer. Thank you for a pleasant evening.”
    He grinned. He couldn’t help it. She was the cutest thing he’d ever seen standing there with her chin jutted, her eyes flashing blue sparks and her cheeks so flushed they matched the color of that gown she was wearing.
    â€œYou find me amusing, Mr. Winston?”
    Whoo! An ice-cold voice and a red-hot anger. Quite a combination.
He shook his head, held her gaze with his. “No. I find you intriguing, Miss Bradley. And I, also, find you a lovely, very proper young lady I look forward to seeing again. You mistook—”
    â€œI mistook nothing, Mr. Winston. Your meaning was quite clear!” Her chin raised another notch. “As for you seeing me again—I’m afraid that will not be possible. I shall be too busy. I begin lecturing tomorrow and—”
    â€œYou’re a speaker?” That information drove his explanation from his thoughts. “Then I shall attend your lecture. What subject—” A long single blast of the steamer’s whistle sounded a final warning of imminent departure. His time was gone. “No matter. I shall find you. Until tomorrow afternoon, Marissa!” He spun on his heel and sprinted for the path that led to the lake.

Chapter Four
    â€œW inston!”
    Grant looked over his shoulder to find the person who had called out to him. A man waved his hand above the heads of those crowded on the trail. He stepped aside and nodded as John Hirsch, owner of the Stone Tavern in Mayville, strode up to him.
    â€œYou going to this temperance thing, Winston?”
    â€œI plan on attending, yes.” Hopefully, he’d find Marissa there. He had to try to repair his faux pas of last night and he’d already missed his chance of attending her afternoon lecture, thanks to his father.
He fell into step and headed up the hill beside the tavern keeper. “I’ve read the temperance people are growing in numbers, and I’m curious to hear one of them speak.”
    â€œSo am I. I’ve heard they close down taverns and men’s clubs, wherever liquor is sold. I’m here to find out if that’s true—and if this speaker has any plans to cause trouble around here.” John Hirsch’s face darkened. “There’ll be plenty of trouble if she riles up local women to try and shut down my place. And the other bar owners in the area feel the same. There’s a group of us going to be here. You’re welcome to join us.”
    â€œSorry, I’m meeting someone.”
I hope.
He shot the tavern owner a questioning look. “How do you know the speaker is a woman?”
    â€œStands to reason, don’t it? Men are the ones that do the drinking. No women come to my place.”
    â€œThat’s true.” He acknowledged the hand John Hirsch raised in farewell, looked at the people overflowing the canopy into the clearing and frowned. Hopefully, he could work his way to a spot where he’d be able to hear the speaker while he searched the attendees for Marissa. Would the subject even interest her? He veered to the right, spotted a space