Page 26 of An Inventor and An Inconvenience (Gentleman Scholars #5)

F or the third time that week, Faith found herself staring at an empty workshop where Jasper should have been. His tools lay scattered across the workbench as though hastily abandoned, and the mining device sat partially disassembled, exactly as it had been days ago.

Something was wrong. She'd felt it in his increasingly distracted manner, seen it in the way he'd begun avoiding their usual discussions. Even his absence from her morning lessons spoke volumes—he'd never missed observing the students' progress with his teaching tools before.

Faith traced her fingers along the edge of his workbench, noting the layer of dust gathering on some of his educational prototypes. A half-finished warning device lay abandoned beside detailed drawings of improvements they'd planned together. The sight made her chest ache in a way she wasn't quite ready to examine.

"Lord Jasper is otherwise occupied," Lucy had told her when she’d asked after his whereabouts. "He didn’t tell me what he was up to, I’m sorry, Miss. But he asked me to ensure the laboratory remained available for your use."

Available, yes, but without Jasper's presence, the workshop felt hollow. Faith had grown accustomed to their easy collaboration, the way his mind worked alongside hers, finding solutions she might never have considered alone. When had his involvement become so essential to her plans? When had he become so essential to her?

The sound of footsteps in the corridor made her heart leap, but it was only a servant passing by. Faith squared her shoulders, making a decision. She couldn't let this uncertainty continue. Whatever was troubling Jasper, whatever had caused this sudden withdrawal, they needed to address it directly.

She penned a quick note:

Meet me in the college gardens at sunset. Please. We need to talk.

After ensuring it was visible but not too noticeable, leaving it on his workbench, Faith spent the afternoon in a haze of worry and anticipation. She taught her lessons mechanically, grateful that her students were too absorbed in their studies to notice her distraction.

The garden was empty when she arrived, its hedges casting long shadows in the fading light. Faith paced the gravel path, rehearsing what she would say. How did one demand explanations from a nobleman? How could she express her concern without revealing too much of her heart?

"Faith."

She turned to find Jasper standing at the garden's entrance, looking more dishevelled than she'd ever seen him. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his cravat was hopelessly crooked.

"You've been avoiding me," she said simply.

He flinched slightly. "I've been... preoccupied."

"Clearly." She gestured to the stone bench beside the hedge. "Will you tell me why?"

Jasper sat heavily, running a hand through his already disordered hair. "My father visited."

Two words, but they carried worlds of meaning. Faith's heart sank. "He disapproves of your involvement with the school."

"Among other things." Jasper's laugh held no humour. "He has offered a significant investment opportunity. One that could secure my future independently of the family estates."

"That's wonderful!" Faith started to smile, then caught his expression. "Isn't it?"

"It comes with conditions." Jasper wouldn't meet her eyes. "Complete focus on commercial applications. No... distractions."

"I see." Faith was grateful for the gathering darkness that hid her face. "And is that what we are? A distraction?"

"Faith, no—" He reached for her hand, then seemed to think better of it. "You have to understand, my father's approval, the family's reputation—"

"I understand perfectly." She was proud of how steady her voice remained. "You need to focus on your future. The school will manage somehow."

"Will it?" Now he did look at her, his expression tormented. "After everything we've built together, can you really go back to teaching in secret, always watching for danger?"

"I managed before."

"But you shouldn't have to!" The intensity in his voice startled them both. "What you're doing matters, Faith. These girls deserve a chance to learn, to understand the world around them. To rise above the limitations Society places on them."

"And you?" She forced herself to ask the question that had been haunting her. "What do you deserve?"

Jasper stood abruptly, pacing the small garden. "I've spent my whole life trying to prove myself worthy of my family name. Everything I've done, every invention, every improvement— it was all to show that the third son could still contribute something of value."

"Your work has value beyond your father's approval," Faith said softly. "I've seen how it changes lives, opens minds, makes the world better in ways that can't be measured in profit."

He stopped pacing, staring at her with an expression that made her breath catch. "That's what I've been thinking about, these past few days. About what truly matters. About what I'm willing to risk for something I believe in."

Faith's heart thundered in her chest. "And what conclusions have you reached?"

"None yet." He smiled sadly. "Though your note demanding explanations certainly clarified some things."

"I didn't demand—" Faith started to protest, then caught the teasing glint in his eye. "Well, perhaps a little."

They shared a moment of fragile humour before reality pressed in again. Faith stood, smoothing her skirts. "You don't have to decide anything now. I understand that family obligations are complicated—"

"Do you?" Jasper stepped closer, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his eyes even in the fading light. "Because I'm beginning to think that some obligations might be worth breaking. Some risks worth taking."

Faith's breath hitched. "Jasper—"

"Let me figure this out," he said softly. "Give me time to find a way to make this work. Please."

She nodded, not trusting her voice. As she turned to leave, his hand caught hers.

"Faith?" His touch sent sparks along her skin. "Thank you. For demanding explanations. For making me face what I've been avoiding."

She squeezed his hand once before withdrawing. "Just don't avoid me again. Whatever you decide... we face it together."

Walking back through the darkening college grounds, Faith felt oddly lighter despite the uncertainty ahead. She hadn't realized how much Jasper's withdrawal had hurt until he'd explained it. Now, at least, she understood the battle he was fighting—not just with his father, but with himself.

And if her heart beat faster remembering the way he'd looked at her, the way his hand had felt holding hers... well, that was another complication they'd have to face together.

~~~~

Jasper stared at the letter that had just arrived by special courier, the heavy parchment bearing his father's seal seeming to grow heavier in his hands with each word he read.

... cannot continue to support endeavours that bring the family name into question... Lord Ashworth and the other investors have expressed grave concerns... actively undermining proper social distinctions through this so-called "educational initiative"...

The Marquess's elegant script grew more pointed toward the end:

You have until the investor meeting next week to publicly distance yourself from Miss Somerton's radical notions. Your invention shows genuine promise, Jasper, but these distractions have made the investors question your judgment and commitment. Lord Ashworth has made it quite clear—your future prospects depend entirely on demonstrating that you understand the proper order of things.

Make no mistake: this is your final opportunity to secure the position we have discussed. Failure to comply will result not only in the withdrawal of investment but in my personal disavowal of your endeavours entirely.

Jasper set the letter down carefully, though what he truly wanted was to crumple it in his fist. His father had threatened disapproval before, but never so explicitly. This was not merely about the invention now, but about his entire future.

A knock at his laboratory door made him hastily tuck the letter into his coat pocket. Lucy entered, her face full of curiosity.

"A Lord Ashworth's secretary has delivered this, my lord," she said, presenting another sealed letter on a silver tray. "He emphasized that it requires immediate attention."

Alone again, Jasper broke the seal with unsteady hands. Lord Ashworth's message was brief but left no room for misinterpretation:

The board meets at Oxford Hall next Wednesday evening to finalize investment decisions. Your presence is required to address concerns about the practical applications of your invention. I have defended your work most vigorously, but I cannot continue to do so unless you demonstrate that your focus remains on industrial innovation rather than social experimentation.

The mining industry needs your invention, Lord Jasper. Thousands of lives could be made safer by your work. I trust you will make the right choice.

The reference to safety—to actual lives that could be protected—struck him deeply. Wasn't that what had driven him from the beginning? The desire to create something that mattered, that made a tangible difference?

Jasper moved to the window, gazing out at Oxford's spires. Faith would be at the school now, teaching her eager students, opening minds that Society had tried to keep closed. The thought of betraying that work, of betraying her, made his stomach clench.

But if he lost this investment opportunity, his invention might never reach the mines at all. What good were principles if they prevented him from actually implementing the changes he sought?

He wished there was some way to go along with Lord Ashworth’s plan without leaving Faith feeling so terribly betrayed. But what good would he be to her without his work?