Page 29 of An Inventor and An Inconvenience (Gentleman Scholars #5)

F aith had been staring at the same page of Engineering Principles for nearly an hour when the idea finally struck her. She sat up so suddenly that she nearly knocked over her father's perfectly organized stack of scientific journals.

"Of course," she whispered, quickly gathering fresh paper and a pencil. "It's not about choosing between mining and education—it's about showing how they're connected!"

Her father's study lay quiet in the pre-dawn light, the familiar scent of leather bindings and lamp oil wrapping around her like a comfort. She'd spent countless hours here, secretly absorbing knowledge that Society said she shouldn't want. Now those years of clandestine study might actually help her save everything she cared about.

Faith's pencil flew across the paper as she sketched out her ideas. Jasper's mining device already demonstrated fundamental mechanical principles—force distribution, mechanical advantage, energy transfer. With some adaptations, it could become not just a practical mining tool, but a teaching device that would revolutionize technical education.

"What if," she muttered, adding notes in her precise hand, "the same mechanism that makes mining safer could make learning more accessible?"

She thought of Lord Ashworth's investment offer, of Jasper's father's insistence on practical applications. What could be more practical than a device that both improved industrial efficiency and trained the next generation of engineers and mechanics?

The sound of movement in the hall made her freeze momentarily, but it was only her father passing by. Through the partially open door, she caught his slight smile as he noticed her working. He'd been different lately—more supportive of her intellectual pursuits, though still cautious about her teaching activities.

Faith returned to her work with renewed vigour. She pulled out Jasper's original drawings, comparing them to educational diagrams from her father's engineering texts. The parallels were striking once you knew to look for them.

"Faith?"

She looked up to find Jasper in the doorway, his expression uncertain. After their conversation in the library yesterday, she wasn't sure he would come when she'd sent her urgent note.

"Come see this." She gestured him over to her father's desk, where she'd laid out her sketches and notes. "I think I've found a way."

Jasper moved closer, his shoulder brushing hers as he bent to examine her work. The familiar scent that always clung to him, along with his nearness, made her heart skip, but she forced herself to focus.

"Look here." She pointed to her adaptations of his design. "Your distributed pressure system—it's perfect for demonstrating mechanical principles to beginners. And these gears?" She flipped to another page. "They could be modified to show different ratios, making abstract mathematical concepts tangible."

"Faith..." Jasper's voice held a note of wonder as he studied her drawings. "This is brilliant. But my father—"

"Would be investing in both industrial innovation and educational advancement." Faith pulled out the proposal she'd drafted. "Think about it: a device that not only improves mining efficiency but also trains the workers who will use it. Every mining operation that adopts your invention could implement standardized technical education programs. It's not just practical—it's revolutionary."

She watched his face as he read through her proposal, hardly daring to breathe. Everything hinged on this moment, on whether he could see the possibility of merging their separate dreams into something greater.

"The investors would need convincing," he said slowly. "And my father..."

"Is a Marques above all else," Faith finished. "Show him the commercial advantages of workers who truly understand the principles behind the machinery they're using. Show him how this could set your invention apart from every other mining innovation being developed."

Jasper set down the proposal, turning to face her fully. "You did all this for me?"

"For us," Faith corrected softly. "For what we could accomplish together."

The look he gave her made her breath catch. "Faith, I—"

A knock at the study door interrupted whatever he'd been about to say. They stepped apart hastily as Lucy appeared.

"A message from the Marquess, my lord." The maid’s expression was nervous and grave as she handed Jasper a sealed letter. "He requests an immediate response."

Faith watched Jasper break the seal, her heart pounding. His face remained carefully neutral as he read, but she could see the tension in his shoulders.

~~~~

Faith was growing more and more concerned over Jasper’s absence. While they had no mention of an understanding between them, she never would have thought he would disappear without a word to her. He hadn’t shown up in the gardens when she had requested that he meet her. She tried to tell herself her heart didn’t mind.

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?

She picked up one of his sketches—a clever adaptation of the mining device for teaching purposes. They had been so excited about it just days ago, finishing each other's thoughts as they refined the design. Now the page felt cold, like a relic of something already past.

The sound of voices from the corridor made her pause. One was definitely Jasper's, and the other—her stomach tightened—sounded like Professor Reynolds.

"—completely understand your position," Reynolds was saying. "These associations can be quite damaging to one's professional standing."

"I've been preoccupied with the practical applications," Jasper replied, his voice carrying that formal tone he used in university settings. "The mining innovations require my full attention at present."

"Very wise," Reynolds approved. "Lord Ashworth will be pleased to hear you're focusing on proper industrial applications rather than... extracurricular activities."

Faith's hand trembled as she set down the sketch.

Extracurricular activities? Was that what he now considered their work together?

"The investors expect a certain level of commitment," Jasper continued, his voice growing clearer as they approached the laboratory door. "One must consider priorities carefully."

Faith moved quickly to the back of the workshop, pretending to examine one of the mechanical models. She couldn't bear to face him while her thoughts were in such turmoil.

The door opened, and Jasper entered with Reynolds. They both stopped short at the sight of her.

"Miss Somerton," Reynolds recovered first, his smile not reaching his eyes. "How unexpected to find you here. I was just discussing with Lord Jasper the importance of maintaining appropriate academic focus during this critical investment period."

Faith forced herself to meet Jasper's eyes, searching for some sign of the man who had worked alongside her with such passion. But his face was carefully composed, any emotion hidden behind a mask of aristocratic reserve.

"I was just leaving," she said quietly. "I wouldn't want to interfere with Lord Jasper's priorities."

Something flickered in Jasper's expression—pain, perhaps, or regret—but he made no move to stop her as she gathered her notes.

"The university community appreciates your understanding, Miss Somerton," Reynolds said smoothly. "These industrial innovations are of the utmost importance to Society."

"Indeed," Faith replied, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. "Far more important than teaching a few servants to read, I'm sure,” she whispered under her breath with sarcasm evident for her own amusement.

She swept past them, head held high, refusing to let Jasper see how deeply the apparent betrayal cut her. But as she closed the door behind her, she caught a glimpse of Jasper's face—and the conflict written there only confused her more.

Why wouldn't he simply tell her what was happening? What pressure had been brought to bear that would make him retreat from everything they'd built together?

As she made her way back into the house, Faith tried to convince herself that there must be an explanation. Jasper wouldn't abandon their cause without reason. He wouldn't betray her trust without purpose.

But as the days passed with no word from him, as whispers reached her about his upcoming presentation to the investors where he would focus exclusively on "practical applications," her certainty began to waver.

Perhaps she had been na?ve to believe that a nobleman's son would truly risk his position for the education of serving girls. Perhaps, in the end, tradition and expectation would always prove stronger than the bonds they had formed.

Yet even as doubt crept in, Faith couldn't quite extinguish the hope that there was more to the story than what she could see. The man who had worked beside her, who had designed teaching tools with such care, who had looked at her with such tenderness—he couldn't have been merely an illusion.

Could he?

~~~~

The Marquess wasn't entirely sure what had driven him to follow Somerton's suggestion. Yet here he stood in the shadows of Mrs. Henderson's shop, watching through a partially open door as his son's invention was used to teach basic mechanical principles to a group of eager students.

The scene before him defied his expectations. These weren't radical revolutionaries or unruly servants overstepping their bounds.

They were simply young women learning to understand the machinery they worked with every day. A housemaid demonstrated how different gear ratios affected mechanical advantage. A cook's assistant calculated precise measurements for adapting recipes to different scales.

And at the centre of it all stood Faith Somerton, moving between workbenches with quiet authority. She praised correct answers and guided struggling students with equal patience, her explanations clear and practical.

"You see," she was saying, "understanding why the mechanism works this way means you'll know how to maintain it properly. That saves your employers money on repairs and prevents dangerous accidents."

The Marquess watched as understanding dawned on a young woman's face. She adjusted the demonstration model with new confidence, explaining the principle to her neighbour in terms of their daily work.

It was orderly.

Practical.

Thoroughly respectable, despite its unconventional nature. And underlying it all was a sense of purpose that reminded him uncomfortably of his own youth, when he'd first understood how proper estate management could improve tenants' lives.

He left before anyone noticed his presence, but the scene stayed with him, challenging his assumptions about what education should look like and who deserved access to it.