Page 8 of When Jess Wainwright’s Curiosity Was Satisfied (Wainwright Sisters #4)
Chapter Eight
H e couldn’t resist scrutinizing her profile as he passed. Her chin was thrust defiantly in the air, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. He wondered if the air around her vibrated, like Dalton’s particles, when he was near. Her mere presence made his throat close until it felt like he was trying to breathe through the coal dust again.
Caris gave him an impish sideways look when he slid onto the bench beside her. “Do you have sins you need to repent, brother?” She murmured.
He studied her pointed smile before he replied. “Do you think I have sins I need to repent, sister?”
“I didn’t witness it, but I’d wager your gaze lingered on her. You covet, and that is a sin.”
Cadoc leaned close to whisper in her ear. “She is not my neighbor’s property, and that’s all the commandment applies to. I am free to covet and need not confess it.”
“Paul equates it with immorality and impurity.”
“Leave off your infernal teasing, Caris. I have nothing to confess.”
Thankfully the opening chords of the liturgy swelled from the organ and drowned her response.
The sermon that followed the opening prayer made Cadoc squirm in his seat and tap his foot. When the vicar spent a hearty quarter of an hour quoting scripture about lechery, Cadoc felt as if he was the object of the man’s proselytization. He might be a man with robust sexual appetites, but he was not a lecher. If the sermon was meant to amend his course, it failed miserably. Cadoc felt no guilt whatsoever about his past or his designs on the village schoolteacher.
He rolled his neck and shoulders in relief when the vicar motioned for the congregation to stand for the closing prayer. “If I ever again have the inclination to attend a Sunday morning service, please dissuade me,” he muttered beneath his breath.
Caris chuckled softly. “I know you chafe at conformity, brother.”
The prayer ended in the preacher’s typical long-winded salutation, and the parishioners began filing into the aisle. Cadoc felt a tug on his fingers, and when he looked back, Ella was beaming up at him. “May we greet Miss Wainwright, Uncle?”
Since Ella’s request aligned with his own, he nodded his acquiescence.
Davy and Ella scampered ahead of him and Caris, nimbly weaving their way through the crowd. They caught up to Miss Wainwright just as she descended the stairs.
Cadoc was in earshot when Ella grabbed her skirt and said, “Our uncle said you were hurt during the storm, will you still be able to teach us about spiders and grasshoppers after the holidays? We brought our Aunt Ellen’s old crutches for you.” His niece pointed vaguely in the direction of their carriage.
She crouched and took his niece’s hand in her own. “My ankle is almost completely healed, thank you for asking.” Her gaze flicked to his as he drew near. “Your uncle was quite chivalrous to escort me home when I turned it.”
Davy sidled closer. “Miss Wainwright, do I have to study the spiders?”
Cadoc smiled at the reticence of his usually exuberant nephew. He was truly terrified of arachnids.
“Davy, you needn’t touch them, but the arachnid family has much to teach us.”
“As long as I don’t have to touch them,” he grudgingly conceded.
“But if he examines them more closely, perhaps he’ll grow so accustomed to them he no longer fears them.”
Jess rose to her feet at his interruption and nodded in his direction. “Mr. Morgan.”
He returned her nod. “Miss Wainwright. Do you disagree with my assessment?”
“I know many people who are afraid of spiders, Mr. Morgan. Including several grown men. I think the general feeling of trepidation stems from the cannibalistic reputation of the black widow.”
“Will spiders be a part of the holiday pageant, Miss Wainwright?”
“Not intentionally. I’m certain they were present in the corners of the nativity stable, but we won’t refer to them in our portrayal of the events.”
Davy huffed a sigh of relief at her side.
“I look forward to seeing the play, Miss Wainwright. My niece and nephew are so excited they can talk of little else.”
“That’s not true, brother,” Caris said as she placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “They’re very excited to see their Welsh cousins.”
“Will you be journeying to Wales for the holiday?”
Jess addressed Caris, but he knew the question encompassed all of them. He wondered if she was trying to wriggle her way out of their agreement.
“Caris, Ella and Davy will be traveling there by train the morning after the play. I’ll remain in Heathsted.”
She wrinkled her brow at his response, as if he’d flummoxed her.
“If you’ll be alone for the holidays, Mr. Morgan, you should join us for Christmas supper.”
Jess Wainwright threw a stern look at her sister, and he had no doubt a pinch would have followed if she could have made it unnoticeable. “I’m sure Mr. Morgan has other plans.”
He lifted his timepiece as if he was pondering something before he stuck it back in the pocket of his waistcoat. “Actually, I don’t have any plans. I’m happy to accept your invitation,” he said with a slight bow.
Cadoc wanted to laugh at the teacher’s answering grimace. If the decision had been hers, she would have happily let him molder away by himself for the duration of the festivities. When Caris tugged insistently on his arm, he gave the two women a perfunctory bow. “My sister has preparations to make for her extended visit to our family, so I shall bid you adieu. My gratitude once again for the kind invitation to sup at your table.”
“We shall see you at three o’clock sharp, Mr. Morgan. And keep in mind that the Wainwrights value punctuality. Especially my sister, Jess,” Vin said as she threw her arm around her sister’s shoulder.
As Caris pulled him toward their carriage he raised his hand in farewell.
“What possessed you to invite him to our home?” Jess asked, incensed by her sister’s meddling.
Vin laughed gaily. “My motives were purely selfish. I want to sit back and watch the drama play out between you.”
This time Jess did pinch her sister’s arm. “You’re supposed to help ward me against him, not give him more opportunities to infiltrate my defenses.”
“He won’t dare importune you when you’re surrounded by family. But I think he’ll try imbalancing you - and that’s what I want to see. Because I have confidence you’ll give as good as you get, sister.”
“If he does manage to importune me, I’m holding you responsible.”
Vin beamed mischievously. “It will be just like our childhood, Jess. Arie always blamed you for my shenanigans.”
“Not always. I could just never prove you were the one at fault,” Jess grumbled.