Page 12 of When Jess Wainwright’s Curiosity Was Satisfied (Wainwright Sisters #4)
Chapter Twelve
W hen Cadoc had escorted her home, he’d led his horse the entire way, their arms brushing together for a quarter of a mile. He hadn’t deliberately touched her again. He’d just tipped his hat and left her at the doorstep murmuring, “Until tomorrow.”
When he finally knocked on the door of the cottage, she was both relieved and at the end of her patience. She pulled him inside and said, “They’re waiting for us in the parlor. I spent the entire day fending off their meddling questions about why it took me so long to get home last evening.”
“Your sisters?”
She tossed a grim smile over her shoulder. “And my two brothers-in-law.”
When the door to the parlor swung open, Cadoc understood her grim smile.
Two large men were lounging in the chairs nearest the fireplace with their booted heels resting on their knees and their arms crossed identically over their broad chests. They both scowled when he entered the room. The five women perched on the seat and arms of the sofa weren’t scowling, but they weren’t smiling either.
“Mr. Morgan, may I introduce you to my family?”
The two men stood, but the women did not.
“Jess, we don’t need an introduction. We know who he is by sight and by reputation.”
The woman who’d spoken held an infant in her arms and he knew immediately she was Jess’s eldest sister, Araminta.
One of the men stepped forward and offered his hand. “Thaddeus St. Simon. My wife is as protective of her sisters as she is of her own brood. As am I.”
Cadoc shook the man’s hand. It was rough, with callouses across the palm, and enveloped his own. He set aside the urge to engage in a battle of wills and strength.
The other man extended his hand as well. When Cadoc accepted it, the lean pressure of his fingers nearly crushed Cad’s. “I’m Cormac Byrne. I’m well versed in the extraction of internal organs. As is my wife.”
The warning was very clear. Cad would be made to profoundly regret any harm he caused Jess Wainwright. The cost of breaking her heart would very likely be his life.
“I understand,” he said as he nodded at the two of them. They nodded back to acknowledge his promise. It was a promise, Cad realized. The kiss in the cloakroom had felt like both an adventure and a homecoming. Like he’d been there before, with the honeyed scent of her skin and the dark cherry-rich taste of her lips.
He wanted to explore whatever was happening between them, but he respected Jess Wainwright’s independence and fortitude too much to coax her surrender if it was against her conscience. His nod had been a promise to refrain from doing exactly that.
With all of Jess’s looming, glaring family packed into the room, there was little Cadoc could do but fold his hands behind his back and remain standing.
“I must confess, Mr. Morgan, I’m not entirely persuaded that your intentions toward our sister are honorable.” The eldest sister narrowed her gaze over the head of the babe she was cradling.
The babe was fussing, and Cadoc suspected it needed to burp. “When my sister was wee, the only thing that would work was moving her legs back and forth. Like she was a little soldier marching down the road.”
The woman gave him an amused glance. “You are full of surprises.”
“You’re not here to give my wife child-rearing advice, Morgan.”
St. Simon sounded aggravated, and when Cadoc turned, he was glowering.
“I know why I’m here, St. Simon. This interrogation is meant to be a show of force. To make me aware beyond the shadow of a doubt that if I trifle with Miss Wainwright’s affections I’ll live to regret it.”
“You’d do well to remember it,” the surly doctor informed him.
“Is this ridiculous charade at an end?” Jess challenged with her hands on her hips. “I am a grown woman and perfectly capable of resisting Morgan’s charms. If he is too forward he’ll become very well-acquainted with my knee.”
Her vehemence amused him and he bowed to the room at large. “I vow to return Miss Wainwright unmolested. And at a decent hour.”
“Unmolested doesn’t necessarily mean unbothered. I’ll know if you lay your paws on her,” called her sister Lavinia as they left the room.
Jess slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and mutely stood when he swirled her cloak around her shoulders and raised the hood.
She stopped abruptly at the sight of his surrey. “You’ve brought a conveyance this time instead of forcing me to ride pillory?”
“I endeavor to remain above censure.”
She made a harrumphing sound as she ascended the steps. “That would be a first,” he heard her mutter under her breath.
He climbed in behind her and folded himself onto the opposite seat. When he removed his hat, she looked on in alarm.
“Relax my little pragmatist. I don’t have plans to ravish you. At least not in a carriage.”
“You won’t get under my skin this time, Mr. Morgan. In fact, I should like a tour of the library I glimpsed when we’ve finished our supper.”
“We don’t often have company. I meet with my investors and business associates in London, not here. You shall be one of the first outside my family to view my other inner sanctum.”
“Your other inner sanctum?”
He gave her a guileless smile. “My workshop and laboratory.”
He took her cloak and bonnet from her, and immediately missed the intimacy of sweeping it over her shoulders.
“Your workspace is usually a restricted area? You’re the one who bade me follow you.”
“My sister and the children were in the back garden, so there was no one else available to answer the door.”
“Why have you not hired help? This home is one of the most substantial in the parish.”
He lifted a shoulder as he pulled out her chair. “I treasure my privacy and don’t want people tramping about.”
“I treasure mine as well- though I seldom have the opportunity to enjoy it.”
“Siblings don’t often respect our need for solitude,” he acknowledged as he took a seat beside her.
“You still must contend with it? Even in a home this spacious?”
He gave her a rueful smile. “I took the responsibility of raising my four younger sisters when I was barely fourteen, and that was in a cottage much smaller than the one you share with your sisters. Although I wouldn’t trade the experience, or the patience and fortitude it instilled in me, my siblings have always been underfoot. The only time Caris and my niece and nephew keep their distance is when I’m in my workshop.”
She laid her spoon on her napkin and rested her chin in her hands. “What do you work on in your workshop, Mr. Morgan? From what I observed, there appeared to be half a dozen unfinished projects lying about.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Are you truly curious or are you stalling for time, Miss Wainwright?”
Her grin was unapologetic. “A bit of both, I must confess.”
“I know immediately if a design isn’t going to work as I intended it to. Until I devise a way to dismantle it and refashion it into something else, I leave it in its unfinished state.” Cadoc shrugged self-consciously. “I’ve learned it’s easier for me to visualize the particular possibilities of each piece when I leave them intact.”
His companion’s expression turned introspective. “Hmmm, much the same way I ponder a drawing when I’m not sure which direction I plan to take.”
“Your drawings of insects?”
“Primarily. Although I often turn my pencil to other things as well. Especially since I haven’t had the use of my microscope to more realistically render the intricacies that aren’t visible to the naked eye. The suborder Anisoptera contains thousands of species, and I plan to record my findings on the fifty or so species I’ve encountered here in Cumbria.”
He watched her push a wave of hair from her forehead, and marveled at her tenacity. “What sort of findings will you record?”
“Most of their membranous wings have colored markings , and the front and rear wings are shaped differently. A dragonfly rests with its wings spread horizontally and we believe some species migrate thousands of miles.”
Her expression was avid and she’d been gesticulating passionately as she talked. Cadoc could care less about her dragonflies, but her passion was irresistible. “Tell me more.”
“The way they catch their prey is fiendishly savage,” she paused to swallow a mouthful of stew. “They have pincers like fangs, a serrated mandible, they use to catch and pin their prey, and one of my colleagues has divided them into four different classes. He calls them sprawlers, burrowers, hiders and claspers.”
“What is the difference?”
She abandoned her soup to lean forward, placing her elbows on the table. “They’ve each adapted to a microhabitat within their freshwater environment. My favorite species is the emperor dragonfly. I’ve seen it consume its prey mid-air. As if it can’t be bothered to take even a moment’s rest.”
“I assume they have relatively short lifespans. Like most insects.”
“That’s not quite the case. Some of the larger species may spend a year or more as larvae after they are hatched - until they shed their exoskeleton. Once the nymphs have shed the exoskeleton, it can take as little as a quarter of an hour for it to transform into a full-grown adult. As full-grown adults, their lifespan rarely exceeds eight weeks. They make the most of the time they have, though,” she wistfully finished.
“How so?” He wanted to know what the root of that wistful tone was.
“Their lives are brutal, but beautiful as well. A savage dance for survival in a world that might seem small and nondescript to an outside observer.”
Her wistfulness suddenly made sense. “Are you comparing yourself to a dragonfly, Jess Wainwright?”
She studied her soup, letting it drip from her spoon. “Perhaps I am.” She raised her head, a fierce look in her eyes.
“What you are trying to accomplish with my niece and nephew and your other students has not escaped my notice. Indeed, it is what captivated me in the first place, my little dragonfly.”
“What is it you think I am trying to accomplish, Mr. Morgan?” She asked, obviously determined to ignore his endearment.
Cad leaned forward and placed his own elbows on the table, mere inches from hers. “I think you are trying to show them there is a bigger world out there, that it is theirs for the taking. You teach for the same reasons I organize.”
“The world can be very unfair to those who don’t have the tools to combat its injustice. I am lucky that our sister Arie taught all of us to read - that our mother taught her. I am lucky to have been raised in a family of sisters who value inquisitiveness and independence. I want to share those values with my students. Especially the girls in my care. To show them their future needn’t be constrained by marriage vows and childbearing.”
Cadoc nodded. “As I said, we are motivated to achieve the same goal. Awareness that there is another path than the one the idle rich would confine us to. The working class has a capital the rich need to survive - our sweat and labor. Without them there is no industry or progress. Parliament would do well to remember it. Especially in regards to the mining community.”