Page 25 of An Inventor and An Inconvenience (Gentleman Scholars #5)

T he Marquess of Thornfield's arrival at Oxford was heralded not by trumpets or ceremony, but by the sound of expensive boots striking the cobblestones with military precision. Jasper heard his father's footsteps long before Thompson opened the workshop door to announce him, each sharp click making his shoulders tense further.

"Father." Jasper straightened from his workbench, desperately aware of the educational prototypes he'd hastily hidden beneath a cloth moments before. "I wasn't expecting you until—"

"Clearly." The Marquess's sharp gaze swept the workshop, taking in the partially assembled mining device, the scattered papers, the general air of divided attention. "I decided to accompany the steward personally, given the importance of Lord Ashworth's potential investment."

Jasper fought the urge to run a hand through his already dishevelled hair. He hadn't slept properly in days, splitting his time between refining his mining device and creating protection systems for Faith's school. Neither project was as complete as it should be, despite his already installing the device at Mrs. Henderson’s.

"The device is showing remarkable progress," he began, moving toward his main workbench. "The distributed pressure system has significantly improved its efficiency—"

"So I see." His father picked up a gear assembly, examining it with critical eyes. "It looks much modified from any previous versions you’ve shown me."

Jasper's heart stuttered. Had he left one of the educational adaptations mixed in with the main components?

"I didn’t think you’d noticed them sufficiently in the past to realize there was any change now. I've been exploring multiple applications," he said carefully. "Lord Ashworth himself suggested that versatility might increase the invention's commercial value."

"Did he?" The Marquess set down the gear with deliberate precision. "And these other applications—they wouldn't happen to involve certain... irregular activities I've heard whispers about? A professor's daughter with unconventional ideas about education?"

Ice slid down Jasper's spine. "Father—"

"You are a nobleman's son," the Marquess cut him off.

"Third son or not, you have obligations to this family. I have indulged your scientific pursuits because you showed genuine talent, and because the mining innovations could benefit our estates. But this..." He gestured dismissively at the workshop. "This dilution of focus is unacceptable."

"The principles are the same," Jasper argued, surprising himself with his vehemence. "Whether used for mining or teaching, it's all about making complex systems more accessible, more—"

"Teaching?" His father's voice could have frozen the Thames. "So the rumours are true. You're not just associating with this girl, you're actively supporting her inappropriate crusade."

"There's nothing inappropriate about wanting to share knowledge."

"There is when it threatens the proper social order." The Marquess moved closer, his presence filling the small workshop. "Do you think I haven't heard about these clandestine gatherings? These attempts to educate serving girls above their station? It's precisely the sort of scandal that could ruin not just your prospects, but our family's reputation."

Jasper thought of Faith's students—their eager minds, their determination to learn despite every obstacle. He thought of Faith herself, brilliant and passionate, fighting for something she believed in despite the risks.

"Perhaps," he said quietly, "some things are worth risking reputation for."

His father went very still. "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this." He withdrew a letter from his coat. "Lord Ashworth is prepared to make a substantial investment in your mining device. Enough to secure your future independently of the family estates. But he requires absolute focus on the commercial applications. No distractions. No... side projects."

Jasper stared at the letter—at the future it promised, the approval he'd sought for so long. All he had to do was walk away from Faith's cause. Pretend he hadn't seen how education could transform lives. Ignore the way his heart lifted every time she looked at him with pride or understanding.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you will have demonstrated conclusively that you cannot be trusted with serious endeavours." The Marquess's voice was cold. "The choice is yours, but consider carefully. Everything you've worked for hangs in the balance."

After his father left, Jasper stood motionless in his workshop. The letter sat on his workbench like a challenge. Beside it, partially visible beneath the cloth he'd hastily thrown over them, lay the educational prototypes he'd created for Faith's students.

Moving slowly, he uncovered them. Each piece represented hours of careful thought, not just about mechanical principles, but about how to make knowledge accessible to eager minds that had been denied it. He picked up the latest warning device, designed to protect not just property or profits, but dreams.

His father was right about one thing—everything he'd worked for did hang in the balance. But standing there among his inventions, both commercial and educational, Jasper finally understood that what he'd been working for had changed. The approval he truly valued now came not from investors or even family, but from seeing understanding dawn in a student's eyes. From Faith's smile when he solved a problem in an unexpected way. From knowing his work could make the world better, not just more profitable.

The choice before him was stark: security and social approval on one side, uncertainty and possible scandal on the other. But as Jasper carefully gathered his educational prototypes, he realized it wasn't really a choice at all. His path had been set the moment he'd seen Faith's passion for sharing knowledge, for fighting against artificial constraints on human potential.

He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and began to write two letters. The first, to Lord Ashworth, respectfully declining his offer as currently structured. The second, to Faith, containing words he'd been too cautious to express before.

Some dreams, he was learning, were worth any sacrifice.