Page 33 of An Inventor and An Inconvenience (Gentleman Scholars #5)

Two weeks later:

T he transformation of Mrs. Henderson's shop from clandestine classroom to official academy had progressed with remarkable speed once the contracts were signed. With Lord Ashworth's discrete backing and Lady Fanbroke's social influence, the little room above the millinery shop had acquired a proper name, proper furniture, and—most importantly—proper protection.

What had begun in secrecy and fear now continued in the open, though carefully disguised as vocational training rather than academic education. The deception was now a formality understood by all parties involved, a polite fiction that allowed revolution to wear respectable clothing.

The Henderson Technical Training Academy was quiet in the early morning light, dust motes dancing in the sunbeams that streamed through freshly cleaned windows. Faith moved among the workbenches, arranging teaching materials for the day's first official class, her movements precise and methodical despite the nervous energy humming through her.

Two weeks had passed since her journey to Yorkshire, since that rain-soaked confrontation that had begun the slow, painstaking process of rebuilding what had been broken. Two weeks of careful correspondence, of professional collaboration conducted through letters and telegrams, each word measured, each suggestion framed with formal politeness.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made her pause, her pulse quickening. Jasper had returned to Oxford yesterday, his work at the mine complete for now. This would be their first face-to-face meeting since Yorkshire.

"Good morning, Miss Somerton." His voice was carefully neutral as he appeared in the doorway, a leather portfolio tucked under one arm.

"Lord Jasper." Faith acknowledged him with a small nod. "I trust your journey was comfortable?"

"Quite, thank you." He remained at the threshold, as though uncertain of his welcome. "I've brought the implementation reports you requested. The miners' progress with the technical training has been remarkable."

"I'm glad to hear it." Faith gestured to the table where she had been working. "Would you care to review them with me? The first class doesn't begin for another hour."

A flicker of something—relief, perhaps—crossed his face. "Of course."

He moved to the table, setting down his portfolio and removing several neatly organized documents. As he began explaining the training protocols they had established at the mine, Faith found herself watching his hands—the way they moved across the papers, the careful precision in his gestures. She had always admired his hands, their blend of aristocratic elegance and engineer's practicality.

"The distribution of knowledge seems to follow the same principles as the pressure distribution in your device," Faith observed, focusing her attention on the reports. "The initial instruction spreads outward, with each student becoming a point of further dissemination."

"Yes, I noticed that as well." Jasper's voice warmed slightly, professional interest temporarily eclipsing personal awkwardness. "Annie was particularly effective. She's been leading informal sessions after hours, helping the other workers understand the mechanical principles."

"Annie?" Faith looked up in surprise. "She's at the mine now?"

"My father hired her specifically to help implement the training program," Jasper explained. "Apparently, she made quite an impression during an incident with the machinery."

Faith felt a small smile touch her lips. "I'm glad. She has a natural gift for teaching."

Their eyes met briefly, shared pride in their student creating a moment of genuine connection. Then both looked away, the fragile moment dissolving back into careful formality.

They continued reviewing the reports, maintaining a professional distance that felt both necessary and painful. Occasionally their hands would brush as they exchanged documents, and each time Faith felt that same confusing mixture of warmth and wariness, of lingering hurt and stubborn hope.

"I've been thinking about the curriculum for the advanced mechanics course," Jasper said as they neared the end of their review. "Your suggestion about beginning with practical demonstrations before introducing theoretical concepts seems particularly effective with the miners."

"It provides context for the abstractions," Faith agreed. "Theory means little without understanding its application."

"Rather like trust," Jasper said softly, the words clearly escaping before he could reconsider them.

Faith stilled, her hand hovering over the papers between them. "Meaning?"

Jasper met her eyes directly, abandoning the safety of professional discussion. "Meaning that I understand now that trust, like theoretical knowledge, requires practical demonstration. Words alone aren't enough."

"No," Faith said quietly. "They aren't."

"I've been trying to show you, these past two weeks," he continued, his voice low and intent. "With every report, every implementation detail—trying to demonstrate that I can be trusted with our work, even if I haven't yet earned back your personal trust."

Faith studied his face—the earnestness in his expression, the carefully restrained hope in his eyes. She thought of their correspondence these past weeks, how scrupulously he had documented every decision, every adjustment to the implementation plans. How transparently he had shared both successes and setbacks.

"I've noticed," she admitted. "And I appreciate the effort, truly."

"But?" he prompted gently, hearing the unspoken qualification in her tone.

"But professional transparency, while necessary, isn't the same as the trust we once shared." Faith looked down at her hands, then back to his face. "That kind of trust develops slowly, built from countless small moments of honesty and vulnerability. It can't be rushed, Jasper, no matter how much we might wish it."

He nodded, accepting this truth without protest. "Then I will continue to build, one small moment at a time."

The simple statement, offered without expectation or demand, touched Faith more deeply than any elaborate pledge might have. Here was the man she had come to love—patient, determined, willing to work steadily toward a goal without guarantee of success.

"I brought something else," Jasper said after a moment, reaching into his coat pocket. "Something I've been developing during the evenings at the mine."

He placed a small brass object on the table between them—a miniature version of his mining device, but with significant modifications. Faith recognized it immediately as a teaching model, designed to demonstrate mechanical principles in a clear, accessible way.

"It's beautiful," she said, picking it up carefully to examine the intricate gears and levers. "The craftsmanship is exquisite."

"It's for the school," Jasper explained. "The first of several, if you approve. I thought... even if things remain difficult between us personally, our work should continue. The students deserve that much."

Faith turned the model in her hands, feeling its perfect balance, the smooth precision of its movements. She thought of the hours he must have spent crafting it, late at night after long days overseeing the implementation.

"Thank you," she said, her voice not quite steady. "It's precisely what we need for the advanced mechanics course."

Jasper nodded, clearly relieved by her acceptance of the gift. "I should let you prepare for your class. Unless there's anything else you need from me?"

Faith hesitated, then spoke with careful deliberation. "Actually, there is. I'm planning to demonstrate basic gear ratios today. Perhaps... perhaps you might stay? Your expertise would be valuable."

It was a small offering—not forgiveness, not yet, but a tentative step toward collaboration again. Jasper recognized it for what it was, his expression lightening subtly.

"I'd be honoured," he said simply.

As they began arranging the teaching models together, moving around each other with the cautious awareness of dancers relearning a familiar pattern, Faith felt something ease within her. The hurt was still there, the breach of trust still raw in places, but alongside it grew something new—a careful rebuilding, a deliberate choice to move forward despite the pain.

When Lucy arrived thirty minutes later, she found them bent over a mechanical demonstration, heads close together as they discussed the best way to explain a complex principle. Their body language still held a certain reserve, a carefulness that hadn't been present before, but the antagonism of recent weeks had softened into something more hopeful.

"Miss Faith?" Lucy's voice held a note of pleased surprise as she took in the scene. "Lord Jasper? Is everything...?"

"Good morning, Lucy," Faith said, straightening. "Lord Jasper has kindly agreed to assist with today's mechanics lesson. Would you help distribute these materials to the workbenches?"

As Lucy busied herself with the preparations, Jasper caught Faith's eye across the classroom. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Faith knew he wasn't thanking her for the invitation to stay, but for something more profound—for the willingness to begin again, to build something new from the fragments of what had been broken.

"One step at a time," she replied softly.

And for the first time in weeks, the smile that curved Jasper's lips reached his eyes, warming them with a hope that Faith found herself cautiously beginning to share.

~~~~

The morning sun streamed through Professor Somerton's study windows, catching dust motes that danced above the scattered papers covering every surface. Faith sat at her father's desk, carefully copying out implementation plans for the mining education program, while Jasper paced nearby, his excitement making him too restless to sit.

"If we establish training centres at each major operation," he said, gesturing with barely contained enthusiasm, "we can standardize the basic instruction while allowing for local adaptations."

Faith smiled, watching how animated he became when discussing their shared vision. His cravat had come slightly askew, and she had to resist the urge to straighten it.

"We'll need to consider the specific needs of each location," she said instead, forcing her attention back to her notes. "The Cornwall operations will require different emphasis than the Yorkshire mines."

"Precisely!" Jasper moved to lean over her shoulder, pointing to a particular passage in her careful writing. The scent of his sandalwood soap mingled with machine oil, a combination Faith had come to associate with their best collaborations. "See here — we can adapt the basic mechanical principles to whatever machinery they're using locally."

Faith was acutely aware of his proximity, of how his sleeve brushed her shoulder as he reached past her to adjust a paper. Such casual touches would have been scandalous just months ago, but her father had grown surprisingly lenient about their working relationship — though he still insisted on maintaining proper appearances when anyone else was present.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Professor Somerton appeared in the doorway. Rather than stepping apart hastily, as they once would have, Jasper simply straightened while Faith continued writing. Her father's lips twitched in what might have been a smile.

"I trust the planning progresses well?" he asked, moving to examine their work. "Lord Ashworth's secretary sent word that the next mining operation is eager to begin implementation."

"We're nearly ready with the initial curriculum," Faith replied, watching her father's face carefully. These moments still felt precious — his genuine interest in her work, his willingness to treat her as a colleague rather than just a daughter.

"Though we're still debating how to structure the advanced mathematics courses," Jasper added. "I favour a practical approach, demonstrating each principle through mechanical applications."

"While I think we need a stronger theoretical foundation first," Faith countered, a familiar argument between them. "The students must understand why the principles work, not just how to apply them."

Professor Somerton picked up one of their draft syllabi, adjusting his spectacles. "Why not both? Begin with practical demonstrations to spark interest, then lead them to theoretical understanding through their own observations?" His eyes took on a distant look. "Your mother always said the best teaching engages both hands and mind."

Faith's breath caught. Her father rarely spoke of her mother, especially in connection with education. But lately, as their implementation plans had progressed, he'd begun sharing more memories — small glimpses of the woman who had first taught Faith to love learning.

"That... that's actually brilliant," Jasper said, breaking the momentary silence. "We could design a progression of lessons that starts with simple machines they already know, then builds to more complex understanding."

He grabbed a fresh sheet of paper, sketching quickly. Faith rose to look over his shoulder, their heads bent together over the drawing. Her father watched them with an expression she couldn't quite interpret — something between satisfaction and wistfulness.

"You know," Professor Somerton said carefully, "your mother would have adored seeing this. Not just the educational program, but..." he gestured vaguely at them, at their easy collaboration. "She always said true partnerships were built on shared passion for knowledge."

Faith felt her cheeks warm, but before she could respond, a knock at the study door announced Lucy's arrival with tea. The maid had become remarkably adept at appearing just when conversations threatened to become too emotional.

As they took their tea, the discussion turned to practical matters — supply costs, instructor training, the delicate politics of introducing education into traditional mining communities. But Faith's mind kept returning to her father's words about partnership.

She watched Jasper gesture animatedly as he explained his latest ideas for adapting the teaching devices, his natural enthusiasm tempered now by genuine consideration for how best to serve their students. How far they'd both come from their first meeting, when she'd resented him as her father's favourite student and he'd seen her as a surprising anomaly.

"What about the female relatives of the miners?" she asked suddenly, interrupting Jasper's explanation of gear ratios. "Wives, daughters — surely they could benefit from understanding basic mechanical principles too? For household management, if nothing else," she added quickly, seeing her father's slight frown.

But it was Jasper who responded first. "Why not? The principles are the same whether applied to mining equipment or household machinery. And having the whole family understand safety procedures could only benefit the mining communities."

The look he gave her held such perfect understanding that Faith had to glance away, her heart thundering. Here was a man who not only accepted her intelligence but actively sought ways to extend educational opportunities to others like her.

"We would need to be careful about how we present it," Professor Somerton mused, surprising them both. "Frame it as practical household education rather than academic instruction. But..." He smiled slightly. "I suppose if some higher understanding should naturally develop through such instruction, who are we to prevent it?"

Faith stared at her father, wondering when exactly he had become so subtly subversive. But of course — he had married her mother, hadn't he? Had supported Faith's own education, even if quietly. Perhaps he had always understood more than she'd given him credit for.

The afternoon passed in productive discussion, their implementation plans growing more detailed with each hour. As the light began to fade, Lucy appeared to light the lamps, reminding them that they had been working straight through dinner.

"Good heavens," Professor Somerton said, looking at the clock. "I'm meant to be at the faculty meeting in ten minutes." He gathered some papers hastily. "Don't let me interrupt your work, though perhaps..." he gave them a meaningful look, "you might consider leaving the door open while I'm gone?"

After he left, Faith and Jasper shared a moment of amused understanding. Even progressive fathers had their limits.

"He's right about the time," Faith said reluctantly, beginning to gather their papers. "Mrs. Henderson is expecting me to review the new training materials tomorrow morning."

"Wait." Jasper caught her hand as she reached for another document. "There's something I've been meaning to discuss with you. About the future of the program."

Faith's heart skipped at his tone, though she kept her voice steady. "Oh?"

"I've been thinking..." He ran his thumb across her knuckles in a way that made it difficult to concentrate. "The program will need ongoing supervision. Someone to oversee curriculum development, coordinate between locations, ensure consistent standards..."

"Yes?" Faith barely dared breathe.

"It would really need two people," he continued. "Someone with technical expertise and someone with teaching experience. Working together. Perhaps..." His voice softened. "Perhaps sharing more than just professional responsibilities?"

Faith felt warmth bloom in her chest. "Are you proposing a position or a partnership, Lord Jasper?"

"Both." His eyes held hers with an intensity that made her pulse race. "Though I confess, the professional aspect is merely a convenient excuse for what my heart has wanted for quite some time."

"How very practical of you," Faith managed, though her voice trembled slightly. "Combining business and pleasure."

"I thought you'd appreciate the efficiency." His smile held both humour and nervousness. "Though I should probably court you properly before making any formal declarations. Your father may support our educational innovations, but I suspect he still has certain expectations about traditional societal partnerships."

Faith laughed softly, squeezing his hand. "Then court me while we plan. Show me how theory and practice can work together in all things."

"Gladly." He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles that sent shivers down her spine. "Though I warn you, I intend to be very thorough in my research."

"I would expect nothing less," Faith replied, her smile matching his. "We are scientists, after all."

The lamp light caught the brass fittings of his latest teaching device, making them glow warmly. Faith thought about how far they'd come — from reluctant allies to essential partners, from simple mining innovation to educational revolution. And now, perhaps, to something even more remarkable.

"We should finish these implementation plans," he said reluctantly, though neither made any move to release their joined hands.

"We should," Faith agreed.

Jasper interjected. "Though perhaps we could continue our discussion over dinner tomorrow? I know a small restaurant near the college..."

"I'd like that." Faith finally withdrew her hand, though the warmth of his touch lingered. "For now, let's focus on convincing the mining operations that educated workers are worth the investment."

They bent together over the plans once more, their shoulders touching slightly as they worked. Outside, Oxford's spires caught the last rays of sunset, while inside, two people who had once thought themselves bound by Society's expectations continued plotting their quiet revolution.

Some innovations, Faith reflected as she watched Jasper sketch another training diagram, changed more than just mechanical systems. Some changed hearts, minds, and futures in ways that no one could have predicted.

But then, the best discoveries often came from unexpected combinations — like mining and education, like theory and practice, like a nobleman's son and a professor's daughter who dared to imagine something new.

"What if we started each location with simple demonstrations?" Jasper suggested, adding notes to their outline. "Let them see the immediate benefits before introducing more complex concepts?"

"Perfect," Faith agreed, their minds working in familiar harmony. "Show them how understanding leads to efficiency, safety, improvement..."

"Rather like us," Jasper said softly.

Faith looked up to find him watching her with an expression that made her heart flutter. "Like us?"

"Learning each other slowly. Building understanding. Discovering how much better we are together than apart."

"Very scientific observation, my lord," Faith managed, though her voice was not quite steady.

"I find that thorough research yields the best results," he replied, his smile warming her straight through.

They returned to their work, but something had shifted subtly between them — like the perfect meshing of gears in one of Jasper's devices, each movement enhancing the other's effectiveness. Together, they would build something extraordinary — in their work, in their lives, and in their hearts.