Page 30 of An Inventor and An Inconvenience (Gentleman Scholars #5)

T he grand hall of Oxford's Scientific Society buzzed with anticipation.

Faith stood at the very back, partially hidden behind a column, her presence technically allowed but certainly not expected. Most of the gathered audience consisted of university men and potential investors, with only a handful of ladies present—all of them attached to important gentlemen, there to observe rather than participate.

Faith had debated whether to attend at all.

Nearly a week had passed since her uncomfortable encounter with Jasper and Reynolds, and in that time, Jasper had made no attempt to explain his sudden withdrawal from their work together. Rumours had reached her through Meredith's library connections that today's presentation would focus exclusively on the industrial applications of Jasper's invention, distancing it from any "socially controversial" elements.

Still, she had to see for herself what was happening. She had to know if Jasper truly intended to publicly disavow everything they had built together.

Lord Ashworth stood at the front of the room, introducing the afternoon's proceedings.

"Gentlemen, we are gathered today to witness a significant advancement in mining technology—one that promises not only increased efficiency but enhanced safety for operations across England."

Faith felt a flicker of pride despite herself. Safety had always been at the core of Jasper's vision, even before they had begun working together.

"Lord Jasper Linford's invention represents the future of mineral extraction," Ashworth continued, "and we are pleased to announce that the investment consortium has reached a favourable decision regarding full implementation, pending today's demonstration."

The crowd murmured approvingly as Jasper stepped forward.

He looked every inch the nobleman today—perfectly tailored coat, immaculate cravat, his usual dishevelled inventor's appearance replaced by aristocratic precision. Even his voice, when he spoke, carried a formal cadence that Faith barely recognized.

"My lords, gentlemen," he began, "I appreciate your presence and your consideration of my work. The device before you represents years of development, focusing on practical applications for our nation's most important industry."

Faith found herself holding her breath as he unveiled the mining device.

It was the same mechanism she had helped refine, the same system of distributed pressure and carefully calibrated gears they had worked on together. But as Jasper began his explanation, he spoke only of industrial efficiency, of profit margins, and production quotas.

Gone were any references to the educational models they had developed. Gone was any mention of how the same principles could open minds as well as mine shafts. In their place stood cold calculations of investment returns and implementation timelines.

"The primary benefit, gentlemen," Jasper was saying, "is the significant increase in ore extraction with minimal additional labour costs."

A hand rose from the audience. "Lord Jasper, there have been rumours connecting this device to certain, shall we say, unconventional educational activities. Could you address these concerns?"

Faith's heart pounded as Jasper paused, his expression unreadable.

"I am aware of the rumours," he said finally. "And I wish to make my position entirely clear. This invention was developed for industrial application, and industrial application alone. While mechanical principles can, of course, be demonstrated in various contexts, my focus remains exclusively on practical implementation within established mining operations."

"So you disavow any connection to these unauthorized teaching initiatives?" the questioner pressed.

Faith felt as though the floor were tilting beneath her. She gripped the column for support, waiting for Jasper to defend their work, to acknowledge the value of what they had created together.

Instead, he straightened his shoulders and spoke with devastating clarity:

"Gentlemen, I am an engineer, not an educator. My concern is with improving industrial efficiency and safety, not with disrupting established social conventions. I believe we all understand the proper order of things, and the proper application of scientific advancement."

A murmur of approval rippled through the audience. Faith saw Lord Ashworth nodding in satisfaction, while Professor Reynolds wore a smug smile of vindication.

She had heard enough. Slipping quietly from her position, Faith made her way out of the hall, her vision blurred by tears she refused to shed in public.

How could she have been so wrong about him? How could the man who had held her hand and spoken so passionately about knowledge for all now stand before Oxford's elite and effectively declare that education should remain the privilege of the few?

Outside, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across Oxford's ancient stones. Faith walked blindly, barely noticing her direction until she found herself at Mrs. Henderson's shop. The classroom upstairs stood empty today—she had cancelled lessons, unwilling to face her students while uncertainty clouded her own future.

Mrs. Henderson took one look at her face and quietly ushered her up to the empty classroom, pressing a cup of tea into her hands before withdrawing to give her privacy.

Faith stood by the window, looking out at the city that had simultaneously nurtured and constrained her all her life.

The spires of the university reached skyward, beautiful and forbidden. She had thought, perhaps, that Jasper understood what it meant to love something you weren't supposed to want—to see possibilities others denied. She had thought they were building something together that transcended those constraints.

How foolish she had been, to believe that a nobleman's son would risk his position for serving girls learning to read. How na?ve to think that their shared vision could withstand the pressure of tradition and expectation.

The mining device would be implemented. Lives would be saved, efficiency improved. That was good, necessary work—she couldn't deny it. But the other half of their dream, the educational components, the belief that knowledge shouldn't be bounded by class or gender... that, apparently, had been expendable.

Faith set down her untouched tea and moved to the workbench where her students practiced with Jasper's teaching models. She ran her fingers across the brass fittings, remembering how his hands had looked crafting each piece with such care. Had it all been an act? A temporary intellectual diversion before returning to his proper place?

No. She couldn't believe that everything between them had been false.

The sudden realization struck her with unexpected force—she had fallen in love with him. When had that happened?

The man who had looked at her with such open admiration for her mind, who had worked alongside her with such genuine passion—that man had been real.

And somewhere along the way, between heated discussions of mechanical principles and shared dreams of education, her feelings had deepened into something she hadn't dared name until now.

But that just made his betrayal all the more incomprehensible. And all the more painful.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She turned, expecting Mrs. Henderson, but found her father instead.

"I heard," Professor Somerton said simply, crossing the room to stand beside her at the window. "I was there."

"Then you heard him disavow everything we've worked for," Faith said, her voice remarkably steady despite the storm inside her. "Everything we believed in."

"I did," her father agreed. "Though I confess, I found it rather unexpected, given what I know of the young man."

Faith turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

Professor Somerton studied her face for a moment before responding.

"Only that Lord Jasper has never struck me as someone who would abandon his convictions so easily. One wonders what pressures might have been brought to bear."

"That doesn't excuse betrayal," Faith said, the word tasting bitter on her tongue.

"No," her father agreed. "But it might explain it."

He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Your mother once told me that when people act contrary to their nature, it's usually because they believe they have no choice."

Faith shook her head. "There's always a choice."

"Is there?" Her father's gaze was gentle but penetrating. "If you had to choose between the school and saving lives in the mines, what would you do?"

The question struck her like a physical blow. "That's not fair."

"Perhaps not. But life rarely presents us with simple choices, my dear." Professor Somerton touched her shoulder lightly. "I'm not saying you should forgive what you perceive as betrayal. Only that you might consider whether there's more to the story than what you witnessed today."

He turned to leave, pausing at the door. "He came to see me yesterday, you know. He seemed... troubled. Said there were things he couldn't explain yet, decisions that might seem incomprehensible."

"And what did you tell him?" Faith asked, her voice barely audible.

"I told him that true partnerships can withstand even the most difficult tests, provided there is honesty between them in the end." Professor Somerton smiled sadly. "Your mother taught me that, though it took me far too long to understand."

After he left, Faith remained at the window, watching as Oxford's shadows lengthened across the cobblestones. Her father's words echoed in her mind, along with the memory of Jasper's face during the presentation—controlled, formal, yet somehow strained around the eyes.

Had there been something she missed? Some explanation beyond simple capitulation to his father's demands and Society's expectations?

She didn't know. And without Jasper breaking his silence, she couldn't know. The uncertainty was almost worse than the betrayal itself—this lingering hope that somehow, there might be a reason that would make sense of everything.

But hope was a dangerous thing when built on such fragile foundations. And Faith had a school to run, students who depended on her, a mission that existed independently of Jasper Linford's involvement.

If he had chosen his path, then she would continue on hers—with or without him.

The thought made her chest ache anew.

She had grown so accustomed to working alongside him, to the particular rhythm they had established together. How strange to think she would need to learn to work alone again, to think of him only as Lord Jasper, the inventor, rather than her partner in building something extraordinary.

As darkness fell over Oxford, Faith gathered her materials and prepared to leave. Tomorrow, lessons would resume. Life would continue. The work mattered too much to abandon, even with a broken heart.

She paused at the door, looking back at the classroom they had built together. Whatever came next, she would face it with the same determination that had carried her through years of secret study and forbidden learning.

That, at least, was something Jasper Linford could never take from her.