Page 28 of An Inventor and An Inconvenience (Gentleman Scholars #5)

T he Oxford library lay quiet in the early morning hours, dust motes dancing in the pale sunlight that filtered through tall windows. Jasper paced between the towering shelves, his father's ultimatum weighing heavily on his mind. The leather-bound volumes surrounding him seemed to watch with silent judgment, much like the portraits of his ancestors at home.

He'd asked Faith to meet him here, in this secluded corner where ancient texts on mechanical engineering shared space with theological treatises. It seemed fitting somehow—their two worlds colliding in this quiet space of learning.

The soft rustle of skirts announced her arrival before he saw her. Faith appeared at the end of the row, her face composed but her eyes betraying concern.

"I was surprised by your note," she said softly, moving closer. "After our conversation in the garden, I thought—"

"I can't do this anymore." The words burst from him with unexpected force. "I can't keep pretending that I'm not being torn in two directions."

Faith's expression softened. "Tell me."

Jasper gestured helplessly at the space around them—the books, the quiet sanctuary of knowledge they'd shared. "My father is insisting on certain behaviour. He will only extend his approval if I toe his specified line. He wants me to completely distance myself from anything that might threaten the family's reputation."

"Including my school." It wasn't a question.

"Including anything that challenges the established order." Jasper ran a hand through his hair, not caring how it must look. "He's arranged everything—connections with other mining operations, a position that would give me independence from the family estates, he’s even offered to invest himself. Everything I've worked for, everything I thought I wanted..."

"But?" Faith prompted gently.

"But I can't stop thinking about your students. About how excited they get when they understand a new concept. About how something I created could help them learn, could make their lives better." He met her eyes. "About how watching you teach them has shown me what truly matters."

Faith's breath caught audibly. "Jasper..."

"I know it's selfish of me to burden you with this." He turned away, studying the book spines without seeing them. "You have enough to worry about with the threats to your school, the pressure to conform to Society's expectations. You don't need my family complications added to that."

"Look at me." Faith's voice was firm. When he turned, she had moved closer, close enough that he could see the gold flecks in her brown eyes. "Do you really think I don't understand what it means to be torn between duty and desire? Between what Society expects and what your heart knows is right?"

"That's just it," Jasper said softly. "Being around you, seeing how you fight for what you believe in despite every obstacle... it's changed how I see everything. Including myself."

"And is that such a terrible thing?"

"It is when it means disappointing everyone who's ever believed in me. My father, Lord Ashworth, the investors—they all have such clear expectations. Support the family interests. Focus on practical innovations. Maintain proper social distinctions."

"And what do you want?" Faith asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jasper stared at her, suddenly acutely aware of how close they were standing, how the morning light caught the copper highlights in her hair. "I want to create things that matter. Not just for profit or family pride, but to make the world better. I want to see understanding light up someone's eyes when they grasp a new concept. I want..." He swallowed hard. "I want to be worthy of your belief in me."

Faith's eyes widened. "You already are."

The simple conviction in her voice shook him to his core. Before he could respond, footsteps echoed from the next row of shelves. They stepped apart hastily as a college servant passed by with an armload of books.

When they were alone again, Faith spoke quietly. "Whatever you decide, know that I understand the cost. I won't think less of you if you choose your family's path."

"Wouldn't you?" Jasper asked, hearing the bitterness in his own voice. "I would."

"This isn't just about the school anymore, is it?" Faith's insight, as always, cut straight to the heart of things.

"No," he admitted. "It's about who I want to be. Who I am when I'm with you."

The weight of everything unspoken hung between them. Faith's hands twisted in her skirts, betraying her own turmoil. "I should go. My students will be waiting."

"Faith." Jasper caught her hand before she could turn away. "I need you to know... whatever I decide about the investment, about my father's expectations... my feelings for you won't change."

She stared at their joined hands, then up at his face. The pain in her eyes nearly undid him. "Sometimes feelings aren't enough," she said softly. "Sometimes we have to choose between what we want and what duty demands."

"And if I'm tired of letting duty decide everything?"

"Then that would be your choice to make." She squeezed his hand once before withdrawing. "But make it because it's what you truly want, not because of... not because of me."

Jasper watched her disappear between the shelves, her words echoing in his mind. The morning sun had risen higher, illuminating the dust motes that swirled in her wake like scattered possibilities.

He pulled his father's letter from his pocket, reading the ultimatum one more time. The path of duty lay clear before him—wealth, respect, his father's approval at last. Everything he'd worked for.

But as he stared at the carefully penned words, all he could see was Faith's face when she watched her students learn. All he could feel was the warmth of her hand in his, the way she believed in him not for his family name or his potential wealth, but for who he was and what they could accomplish together.

For the first time in his life, Jasper understood that sometimes the bravest choice wasn't following the path others had laid out, but forging a new one entirely.

~~~~

After following a tidy little maidservant, the Marquess found Professor Somerton in his study one evening, surrounded by the usual chaos of papers and books. He hesitated at the threshold, remembering how often he'd dispatched messengers rather than making such calls in person. But some conversations required a more personal touch.

"Professor." He waited for the older man to look up from his work. "I wonder if I might have a word?"

Somerton's eyebrows rose slightly, but he gestured to a chair. "Of course, my lord. Though I confess, I'm surprised to see you here."

"Yes, well." The Marquess settled stiffly into the offered seat, noting how the leather was worn smooth from years of scholarly visitors. "It's about our children."

"Ah." Somerton set aside his papers, giving the Marquess his full attention. "I assume you're concerned about their association."

"Among other things." The Marquess fought the urge to pace, to release some of the tension coiling inside him. "How do you do it, Professor? How do you watch your child pursue such unconventional paths without..." He gestured vaguely, unable to fully articulate his fears.

"Without trying to force them onto safer roads?" Somerton smiled slightly. "It hasn't been easy. There were many years when I tried to redirect Faith's interests, to protect her from disappointment and scandal."

His expression grew distant. "Her mother would have known better, of course. Catherine always said our daughter's mind was a gift, not a burden to be managed."

"But surely you worry about her future? About how Society will view her pursuits?"

"Every day." Somerton's voice held a quiet certainty that made the Marquess pay closer attention. "But I worry more about what would happen to her spirit if I continued trying to contain it. You've seen her teach, haven't you? The way she comes alive when sharing knowledge?"

"I... no. I haven't."

"Perhaps you should." Somerton's eyes met his directly. "It might help you understand what Jasper sees in her. In their shared vision."

The Marquess shifted uncomfortably. "My son has responsibilities. Expectations. The family name—"

"Will be honoured or disgraced by his character, not his choice of pursuit." Somerton's voice was gentle but firm. "Look at what they've already accomplished together. Not just the mining innovations, but this new way of approaching education and industry as interconnected forces."

"It's not traditional," the Marquess protested, though he could hear the weakness in his own argument.

"Neither was the first steam engine. Neither was Oxford itself, once upon a time." Somerton stood, moving to a shelf lined with ancient texts. "Every tradition we now hold sacred was once a revolutionary idea that someone dared to pursue despite opposition."

He turned back to the Marquess. "The question is: do we want to be remembered as the ones who stood in the way of progress, or the ones who helped guide it?"

The Marquess sat in silence for a long moment, turning those words over in his mind.

Finally, he stood. "You've given me much to consider, Professor."

"That's all any teacher can hope to do." Somerton smiled. "Though if you're truly interested in understanding their vision, I might suggest visiting the school for yourself. Discreetly, of course."