Page 24 of An Inventor and An Inconvenience (Gentleman Scholars #5)

F aith's hands trembled slightly as she installed the last of Jasper's warning devices near the shop's back entrance. The brass fixture looked perfectly ordinary—just another piece of Victorian decorative metalwork—but she knew the intricate system of triggers and silent alarms it contained could mean the difference between safety and disaster for her students.

"A little higher on the left side," Jasper suggested softly, reaching past her to adjust the mounting. His presence behind her sent an unexpected shiver down her spine, though she told herself it was merely concern for the task at hand.

The early morning light filtered through Mrs. Henderson's shop windows, casting long shadows across the wooden floors. They'd arrived before dawn to install the devices, wanting everything in place before the day's lessons began. Faith couldn't help but notice the dark circles under Jasper's eyes, evidence of the long nights he'd spent perfecting this system instead of working on his mining device.

"You've risked so much for us," she murmured, testing the pressure plate one final time. The silent signal worked perfectly—a tiny bell in Mrs. Henderson's back room would alert them to any approaching visitors long before they reached the shop.

"Some things are worth the risk." His voice was quiet but firm. "Besides, the principles involved aren't so different from my mining work. It's all about making dangerous situations safer."

Faith turned to face him, struck by the earnestness in his expression. Here was a nobleman's son, someone who could have easily dismissed her efforts as inappropriate or beneath his notice. Instead, he'd spent countless hours adapting his inventions to protect her students' chance at education.

The sound of footsteps in the alley made them both freeze. A moment later, the warning bell chimed softly in the back room—just as Jasper had designed it to do. Faith felt a surge of relief mixed with triumph. It worked. They would have warning now, precious minutes to hide their true activities if needed.

"Miss Faith?" Lucy's voice called softly from the back door. "Is it safe to come in?"

"Yes, come in quickly." Faith watched as her students began arriving one by one, each triggering the silent alarm system exactly as intended. Their faces lit up at the sight of the day's lesson materials spread across the table—simple mechanical demonstrations Jasper had designed alongside basic arithmetic and reading primers.

As the girls settled into their lessons, Faith found herself watching Jasper. He stood slightly apart, observing how the students interacted with his teaching tools. The pride in his expression when Annie correctly explained a mechanical principle to Mary made Faith's heart twist in her chest.

"You should go," she said reluctantly, aware of how much time he'd already spent here instead of in his workshop. "Your father's steward will be waiting."

Something flickered across his face—concern, perhaps, or resignation. "Yes, I suppose he will be." But he made no move to leave, instead watching as Lucy helped Sarah understand a particularly challenging concept.

"Jasper." Faith touched his arm lightly. "I can't thank you enough for all of this, but I don't want you to sacrifice your own dreams for our sake."

He turned to her then, his expression intense. "What if these aren't separate dreams anymore? What if making knowledge accessible to those who need it most is as important as any mining innovation?"

The weight of his words hung between them, heavy with implications neither of them quite dared to voice. Faith withdrew her hand, suddenly aware of how improper their closeness might appear.

"You should still go," she said softly. "We'll be safe now, thanks to your invention. You need to focus on your presentation to your father and his steward."

He nodded slowly, gathering his tools. But at the door, he paused. "Faith... whatever happens with the steward today, with my father's expectations... I want you to know that helping with your school has taught me more about what truly matters than all my years of formal education."

After he left, Faith found herself unable to concentrate on the lessons. Her mind kept returning to the choice that lay before her. She could protect Jasper by maintaining a purely professional distance, allowing him to focus on securing his future without the complications of her cause. Or she could acknowledge the growing connection between them, the way their separate paths seemed to be weaving together into something new and unexpected.

That evening, she sat at her desk, a blank piece of paper before her. She had intended to write a simple thank-you note, something appropriately formal and distant. Instead, her pen traced words that came straight from her heart:

My dear friend,

What you have given us is more than just protection—it is hope. Hope that knowledge need not remain locked away from those who thirst for it. Hope that innovation can serve not just profit but understanding. Hope that some dreams are worth any risk...

She stared at the words, understanding finally flooding through her. This was more than gratitude. More than professional admiration. More than friendship.

The question was: what would she do about it?

Faith folded the letter carefully, sealing it with trembling fingers. The choice she made now would affect not just her own heart, but the future of her school, Jasper's standing with his family, and perhaps even the larger cause of women's education that she held so dear.

She held the letter up to her candle flame, watching as the corner began to blacken. One quick motion and she could burn it, maintain the safe distance of formal acquaintance. Protect them both from the complications of deeper involvement.

Instead, she blew out the flame.

Some risks, she decided, were worth taking.