Page 21 of An Inventor and An Inconvenience (Gentleman Scholars #5)

J asper was making final adjustments to his device when Lord Ashworth slipped quietly into the preparation room. The investor meeting was set to begin in less than an hour, and Jasper's hands trembled slightly as he polished the brass fittings one last time.

"Linford," Ashworth said softly, closing the door behind him. "A moment, if you please."

Jasper straightened immediately. "Lord Ashworth. I wasn't expecting you until the presentation."

"Hence my discretion." Ashworth glanced toward the door, then lowered his voice. "I've just come from a rather troubling conversation with your father and several board members."

Something in the older man's tone made Jasper's stomach tighten. "What sort of conversation?"

"The sort that leaves me concerned for your position." Ashworth moved closer, examining the mining device with apparent casualness. "It seems Professor Reynolds has been quite vocal about certain 'inappropriate educational activities' he believes you've been supporting."

Jasper felt the blood drain from his face. "I see."

"Indeed." Ashworth's eyes met his directly. "The Marquess was particularly disturbed by these reports. He's made it quite clear that your continued association with Miss Somerton and the rumours of her school could jeopardize not only the investment but your standing within your family."

"My father has never approved of my pursuits," Jasper said stiffly.

"This goes beyond mere disapproval, Linford." Ashworth's voice was gentle but firm. "The board is prepared to withdraw support entirely if they perceive any risk of social controversy. Your father seemed willing to support such a decision."

Jasper's hands clenched at his sides. "So I'm to choose between my invention and Faith's school? Between saving lives in the mines and expanding access to education?"

"That appears to be their intention," Ashworth agreed.

He hesitated, then added more quietly, "Though perhaps there might be another way."

Jasper looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

"The contracts for implementation have already been drafted," Ashworth said carefully. "The language regarding training programs is, shall we say, deliberately broad."

He pulled a folded document from his pocket and handed it to Jasper. "You might wish to review this particular clause before your presentation. Note the phrasing about 'appropriate technical training' and 'household management skills relevant to mining communities.'"

Jasper scanned the paragraph, understanding dawning as he recognized the cleverly ambiguous wording. "This would protect the educational programs."

"If interpreted appropriately," Ashworth nodded. "Once signed, these provisions would be legally binding, regardless of any... public statements that might be necessary to secure those signatures."

Jasper stared at the contract, mind racing. "They would require me to publicly distance myself from Faith's work."

"To satisfy your father and the more conservative investors, yes." Ashworth's expression was grim. "It's an imperfect solution, I grant you."

"Faith would think I'd betrayed everything we've built together," Jasper said, his voice hollow.

"Temporarily, perhaps." Ashworth took back the contract, returning it to his pocket. "The question you must answer, Linford, is whether protecting the work itself is worth that temporary misunderstanding."

The door opened again, and Thompson appeared. "Five minutes until the presentation begins, my lord."

"Thank you," Ashworth replied, then turned back to Jasper. "I must take my place with the board. Whatever you decide, I will respect your choice."

He paused at the door. "For what it's worth, young man, I believe both your causes worthy. Saving lives in the mines and expanding education deserve every effort to preserve them—even if the methods are imperfect."

After Ashworth departed, Jasper stood motionless, the weight of the choice before him nearly unbearable. To publicly deny his connection to Faith's school would wound her deeply, perhaps irreparably. But to refuse would mean the death of both his invention and her school.

Unless...

Jasper pulled out a sheet of paper and began writing hurriedly. If he had to make this impossible choice, he would at least ensure Faith understood the truth eventually. He would find a way to save both dreams, even at the cost of her trust in the interim.

The clock struck the hour. It was time.

Jasper stood before the assembled investors in Oxford's grandest meeting room, acutely aware of how his cravat seemed determined to strangle him. The morning light streaming through tall windows caught the brass fittings of his invention, making them gleam impressively, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Lord Ashworth sat at the centre of the long table, his expression as unreadable as a granite cliff face. On either side of him, various mining investors and industry representatives maintained similarly stern countenances. These were men who dealt in practical matters—profit margins and production quotas.

"Gentlemen," Jasper began, launching into his carefully rehearsed presentation. "The future of mining lies not in demanding more from our workers, but in providing them with better tools."

As he demonstrated the device's grinding mechanism, he found himself thinking of Annie's face when she'd understood how mechanical advantage worked—how the same principles he was showing these wealthy men could make life easier for a simple scullery maid.

"The distributed pressure system," he continued, "allows for more efficient ore extraction while reducing the physical strain on the operators."

Lord Ashworth leaned forward slightly. "And you've tested this extensively?"

"Yes, my lord. Though on a smaller scale than would be used in actual mining operations." Jasper's mind flickered to Faith's students, using miniature versions of these same mechanisms to understand basic physics. "The principles remain consistent regardless of scale."

"Fascinating," one of the younger investors commented. "Though I wonder about the cost of implementation versus simply hiring more workers?"

Jasper felt a flash of irritation he would never have permitted himself to show a few months ago. "The point isn't just about efficiency," he said, more forcefully than he'd intended. "It's about making dangerous work safer, about using our understanding of mechanical principles to improve lives, not just profits."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Lord Ashworth's eyebrows rose slightly.

"A noble sentiment," he said carefully. "Though perhaps more suited to a university lecture than a business proposition?"

Jasper forced himself back to his prepared points about cost savings and production increases. But his heart wasn't in it. All he could think about was how this technology could be used to teach, to illuminate, to open minds to new possibilities.

"The initial investment would be offset by reduced labour costs within the first year," he heard himself saying, the words feeling hollow in his mouth. Was this really all his work was meant for? Reducing human beings to entries in a ledger?

"And maintenance costs?" another investor asked. "Training requirements?"

"Minimal, as the design emphasizes simplicity and durability." Like the teaching models he'd created for Faith's students, though he couldn't mention those. "The basic principles are easily grasped once demonstrated."

The questions continued, each one forcing Jasper to reduce his invention to its coldest, most practical applications. Yes, it would increase profits. Yes, it would streamline operations. No, they needn't worry about workers becoming too educated about the principles involved.

After the investors had departed, Jasper sat alone in the meeting room, staring at his invention. He'd spent so long trying to prove himself worthy of his father's approval, trying to compensate for not being the heir, that he'd almost missed the larger possibilities of his work.

Faith had seen it though. She'd looked at his mining device and seen a teaching tool, a way to spread knowledge and understanding. She'd helped him make it better by making it more accessible.

The strange thing was, he no longer cared as much about the investors' decision as he would have a few months ago. Oh, he still wanted the project to succeed—but not just for his father's approval or his own financial security. He wanted it to succeed so he could continue exploring these new possibilities, continue working with Faith to find ways to make knowledge more accessible to those who needed it most.

But where did that leave him? His father's expectations hadn't changed. The pressure to prove himself hadn't diminished. And yet...

Jasper carefully packed away his invention, his mind already working on modifications that could serve both practical and educational purposes. Perhaps, like his gear systems, these different aspects of his life didn't have to work against each other. Perhaps they could actually work together, each making the other more effective.

He just had to figure out how to make his father see that—assuming he even could.