When Jess Wainwright's Curiosity Was Satisfied: Wainwright Sisters, #4

When Jess Wainwright's Curiosity was Satisfied

Wainwright Sisters Book 4

Andrea Jenelle

Willow Creek Publishing

Copyright © 2025 by Andrea Jenelle.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. This includes the use of any material contained herein for the purpose of training, integrating or incorporating artificial intelligence by any means or in any fashion. For permission requests, please contact the author here: https://www.andreajenelleromance.com/contact-5

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover: Photography by VJ Dunraven Productions. Cover design by Willow Creek Publishing.

First edition, 2025.

To every little girl who thought spiders were cool and loved to watch ants going about their business.

To every little girl who grew up to be a woman who knows her own mind and isn't afraid to take a stand when she knows she's in the right.

To every woman who's ever been told it's a man's world and fought to make a place for herself in it.

Contents

1.Chapter One

2.Chapter Two

3.Chapter Three

4.Chapter Four

5.Chapter Five

6.Chapter Six

7.Chapter Seven

8.Chapter Eight

9.Chapter Nine

10.Chapter Ten

11.Chapter Eleven

12.Chapter Twelve

13.Chapter Thirteen

14.Chapter Fourteen

15.Chapter Fifteen

16.Chapter Sixteen

17.Chapter Seventeen

18.Chapter Eighteen

19.Chapter Nineteen

20.Chapter Twenty

21.Chapter Twenty-One

22.Chapter Twenty-Two

23.Chapter Twenty-Three

24.Chapter Twenty-Four

25.Chapter Twenty-Five

26.Notes to Reader

Acknowledgements

Meet the author

Other Books by Andrea

Chapter One

Late Autumn, 1862

The hazy stillness of the brisk autumn afternoon snuck in through the open window. It carried the scent of bonfires and ripe wheat and musty leaves. Jess’s students were gone for the day, and she exhaled in relief as she unbuttoned her collar, just a finger length, and lifted the coiled braid at her neck to let the cool air rush over her skin. Many of the farms were bringing in the last of the harvest, and she’d dismissed classes early so the older children could set their hands to the task alongside their parents.

Whenever Jess glimpsed the empty table in the corner of the school room she stiffened. The trays of specimens were still arranged into a tidy stack. The small notebooks she’d purchased for the students to record their observations were still lined up on the bookshelf. But the instrument that would ensure their first journey into the world of science was full of wonder, was missing.

The loss of her microscope six weeks ago had stolen her breath. It had felt like being cast off her moorings - the same feeling that had assailed her when she fell from the hayloft as a girl. The same untethered feeling that had assailed her when Arie had broken the news of their mother’s death. Her vision had blurred and her body had morphed into something weightless and desolate.

She’d been morose and nearly inconsolable for the first two weeks - until Davy Greene had shamefully confessed it was in his uncle’s study and he’d been the one who helped put it there.

Even as she’d fumed she’d reassured Davy she didn’t blame him for the trespass. She didn’t tell him what she thought of his uncle - that Cadoc Morgan’s wickedness had influenced him.

The man was a relative newcomer to the parish - he’d settled in Heathsted with his two sisters and his niece and nephew three years ago. His origins were murky, and he’d paid cash for the rundown Tudor manor on the outskirts of town. He’d hired an army of tradesmen to bring it back to its former glory, and by all accounts he was fair in his dealings and of a charming countenance.

He was much sought after by the unmarried women of the county. As far as Jess knew, he rebuffed all advances bent on matrimony and indulged instead in liaisons of a much more temporary state. Jess’s sister Vin was deliciously enthralled by gossip of his string of dalliances with merry widows.

His penchant for the widows, and the fact they’d never exchanged more than five words at a time, did not explain his larceny.

A fortnight ago, she’d finally found an opportunity to confront him about the theft. That was the first time she politely asked for the return of her most prized possession. When she’d threatened to go to the magistrate, he’d given her an inscrutable look and said he hadn’t yet decided what he’d demand in return. He’d then told her he had no intention of keeping it forever.

For the last two weeks she’d been relentlessly badgering him for an explanation. They’d been sparking back and forth like sputtering rushlights, but he hadn’t waivered in his resolve. He met every single one of her demands with an enigmatic grin.

When Jess heard boots on the steps beyond the open door, she hastily rebuttoned her collar. It wouldn’t do for any of the parents to see her in disarray.

I’ll let you have it back. For a price. The deep voice echoed in the empty schoolroom.

She knew he’d be lounging in the doorway when she turned. With a tousled, uncovered head of rich brown waves the color of coffee and eyes that were the outrageous shade of blue the sky assumed ahead of an impending storm.

She maintained her composure. So he was finally prepared to tell her exactly what the return would cost her. She had a suspicion that if he knew how badly she wanted her English Drum back, his price would morph into something truly astronomical. He was like one of the preening male dragonflies she was cataloging - arrogant in the knowledge of his radiance.

Is it a price I can afford? She asked as she worked the eraser over the chalkboard. She was pleased her voice didn’t betray the flutter of nerves in her stomach.

That depends on whether your price is above rubies. How valuable is your virtue, Miss Wainwright?

Jess prided herself on the fact she didn’t have a single tentative, retiring bone in her body when it came to advocating for her students. She’d assumed her position when the village school opened five years ago, and she was proud of how she’d designed the curriculum and convinced skeptical parents and itinerant students that an education beyond basic literacy was important. She was used to confronting gangly boys nearly as tall as she was and emerging victorious. She had a knack for rendering them sheepish and penitent.

Despite her confidence in her abilities, something about Cadoc Morgan made her quake in her half-boots like she was facing down a fire-breathing dragon. He was too everything for her to absorb. Too broad, too tall, too maddening. His eyes too blue, his legs too long, his thighs too muscular. His presence took up all the space and air in a room when he entered it, and she preferred him in small doses, not languidly reclining against the wall like he had all the time in the world to beset her.

She should have known politely asking for the return of her microscope wouldn’t be the peaceful exchange she’d hoped for. Of course he’d turned it into a challenge that was an affront to her dignity. She slowly turned to face him.

I’m certain I didn’t hear you correctly. Surely you jest. She wanted to smack the erasers together under his nose and send him into a sneezing fit.

He crossed his arms over his chest and that insufferably alluring mouth curled into a wry grin. I’m certain you did. And I assure you it was not a jest.

She took a deep breath and brandished the chalk clasped in her hand like a sword. So I won’t be able to retrieve the microscope unless I surrender my virtue in the biblical sense? That is the price I must pay?

From what I’ve observed you are unattached and unspoken for. If you accept my proposition, I will give you memories to last a lifetime.

The fact I am unattached does not excuse your audacity, sir. You won’t entice me to your lair. The ostracism I would suffer if such an arrangement were revealed is too high a risk.

My lair? He asked as he raised a brow. He ignored the rest of her protest.

The raised brow seemed supercilious on his part, and Jess was too embarrassed to tell him she’d compared his tall lanky form to a skulking wolf. Her sisters had burst into laughter when she said she expected him to blow down the schoolhouse at any moment. Vin and Gert had laughed so hard, whisky erupted from their noses.

She waved the chalk in a dismissive gesture. Your house.

The wry grin made another appearance. And this time there was a flash of dimple in his right cheek. It made his face lopsided and far too appealing. How badly do you want the microscope restored to your classroom, Miss Wainwright?

His lilting Welsh accent crawled up the base of her spine and she frowned in response. Jess was not going to let him put her out of sorts. Is that a rhetorical question, Mr. Morgan?

No. He was clearly amused by her irritation.

I’d like to begin a chapter on entomology with the older students in the spring, and the microscope would make the planning and delivery of the lesson much easier. Without the microscope, trying to explain things like carapaces and the way the insect world used antennae would require a hands on approach and observation with the naked eye. It would be far easier for her students to see the intricacy of the hidden world and observe it if squinting wasn’t required.

Then you know what you need to do.

Jess groaned and stamped her foot in frustration. Why on earth did you take it to begin with?

His grin disappeared and his gaze turned intense. You needed to be dislodged from your shelf, Miss Wainwright.

She felt a balloon of righteous indignation expand in her chest. She carefully set the chalk on the desk behind her and braced her hands on her hips. "And you thought stealing my microscope would accomplish that? You thought using your unconscionable theft to press your inappropriate suit was an acceptable course of action?

He stepped closer. You’re flustered. I’ve never seen you flustered. You’re always the unflappable soul of decorum. Like an ice maiden. I’ve already begun to achieve my ends.

I’m not flustered. I’m annoyed. There is a pronounced difference. The indignation threatened to choke her. She wasn’t an ice maiden. She just didn’t believe in wearing her heart on her sleeve or leaving herself vulnerable to attack when she made how she felt visible to those who hadn’t earned her trust.

However you choose to describe it, Miss Wainwright, my act of larceny jolted you from your complacency.

He was absolutely infuriating. Singularly capable of prying beneath her composure like he was peeling away the epidermis that protected her organs. If your goal was to make me uncomfortable, Mr. Morgan, you may consider it accomplished.

His wink was slow and maddening. Accomplishing the goals I’ve set for myself is one of my favorite pastimes.

Jess stepped forward, until the tips of her boots were touching his. Do you enjoy patronizing me, Mr. Morgan?

I shudder to think how you’d respond if I actually patronized you, Miss Wainwright.

I am not visiting your home to reclaim the microscope you appropriated from my desk. She refused to give him that power. He was already insinuating himself into the design of her curriculum and she would tolerate no further manipulation.

He shrugged. Then it appears the students will be examining insect anatomy with the naked eye and you’ll have to fend for yourself as far as designing the lesson goes.

You’re the superintendent of the school. Isn’t denying the students the most robust education available some sort of ethics violation?

Not if my beneficence supplied said microscope. And I’m confident my actions are justified.

Jess abandoned the chalk on the desk behind her and crossed her arms. I refuse to cave to your intimidation tactics.

May I remind you, Miss Wainwright, that your position here depends on my forbearance?

He stepped toward her and she stood her ground. Your forbearance means nothing. Since my tenure here, the attendance rolls have been full. Several of the students have passed the exams for admission to university, and, according to their correspondence with their parents, are settling in well.

Your position is still secured by my forbearance. One word to the rest of the board and you’ll be unable to continue your unorthodox teaching methods.

I’ve had no complaints. The results of those methods speak for themselves. And I could simply inform the magistrate that you are holding onto stolen property.

The methods may speak for themselves, but there are still members of the parish who believe female students shouldn’t be exposed to those studies. And you won’t speak of the microscope to the magistrate. Because if you do, I might be tempted to tell him about your sister Lavinia and the visits she makes to new mothers under the auspices of her position.

You’re not going to intimidate me into retrieving the microscope. And though we are at odds I believe you are forward-thinking enough to appreciate the options my sister is offering those women.

It wasn’t my intention to intimidate you. I’m simply reminding you that your rebellion is pointless because I hold the winning hand. I’m confident you’ll eventually see the truth of the situation.

She turned toward the chalkboard, and reached for the eraser again. She took a deep breath, but that didn’t stop her from fuming. You’ve made your point, Mr. Morgan. If I decide there’s no other way for me to conduct the lessons I’ve developed, I’ll retrieve my microscope. Now, if there’s nothing further, I must finish cleaning up.

She ignored the low chuckle and the tromp of his boots as he left.

Once the door had shut, she dropped her forehead to the chalkboard and sighed.

The fortnight since Cadoc Morgan’s illicit proposition had passed quickly. Jess had been occupied with preparations for her sister’s journey and the upcoming school pageant.

Cece was finally taking leave of her sisters to chase the origin of the bundle of letters she’d received, and Jess would sorely miss her.

Of all her sisters, she and Cece were the most alike in temperament and motivation and she would be bereft without her companionship and counsel. Cece’s departure meant there would be one less pair of hands for pageant rehearsal and costuming as well.

Jess was perched on the edge of the bed while her sister packed a bag they’d pulled from the attic. You’re sure about this?

Yes, I’m sure. I need something, Jess. And you do too. What are you going to do about your microscope?

Jess flopped backward against the pillow and covered her eyes. Ugh. I have no idea.

You never truly explained what the bargain was.

He wants the opportunity to seduce me.

Cece’s eyes widened. That’s not what I expected. I thought perhaps it was a kiss he was asking for.

I might not balk at that, Jess