Page 4 of An Inventor and An Inconvenience (Gentleman Scholars #5)

J asper stopped abruptly at the threshold of Professor Somerton’s study, his carefully rehearsed opening words dying on his lips.

The polished wood frame of the doorway caught the morning light that streamed through tall windows. The sitting room before him was a scholar's sanctuary gone slightly to seed—scientific journals stacked on side tables, a well-worn chess set in the corner, and books. Books everywhere, their leather spines gleaming.

It was a scene entirely different from what he’d expected. Instead of his mentor’s familiar figure bent over a desk, he found himself facing a young woman. Despite the controlled chaos of the room around her, it was the woman herself who drew and held his attention.

"Lord Jasper Linford to see you, Miss," the footman announced with practiced formality.

She sat with perfect posture on the settee, her deep blue dress a stark contrast to the faded upholstery. Her fingers absently traced the edge of a scientific paper that lay beside her, the gesture so natural it suggested familiarity with such materials. There was something in her bearing—a sharp intelligence in her eyes that seemed at odds with the domestic setting—that made him pause.

Jasper was confused. And irritated. He had specifically asked to see Professor Somerton; why had he been shown to this woman? And what was a woman doing at Oxford with all these scientific papers at her fingertips? He had heard rumours of the professor's bluestocking daughter, but surely—

The young woman's lips curved into a smile that suggested she read every question crossing his face. There was something else in her expression too—a wariness, perhaps even a touch of hostility, though he couldn't imagine why. They had never met before, had they?

"Won't you come in?" Her voice carried the cultured tones of a gentleman's daughter, but underneath lay something harder to define, barely contained energy, like a spring wound too tight.

“I’m sorry my father isn’t here to greet you himself," she continued, gesturing to a chair. "There was apparently an emergency in the laboratory.”

The words 'my father' clicked everything into place. This must be Miss Somerton. Jasper's irritation faded slightly—he knew all too well about laboratory emergencies. He stepped closer and took her offered hand, momentarily uncertain whether to shake it formally or bow over it properly.

“Won’t you have a seat?” she invited as she lifted the teapot to offer him a cup.

“I’m not sure how long he’s going to be,” she explained with an apology, “but I will do my best to help you get settled. Father mentioned you were here for a consultation.”

She said it like a statement, but her voice lifted in question at the end, betraying curiosity beneath her composed exterior.

“That’s right,” he agreed, watching as she poured tea with practiced grace. Not a drop spilled despite the subtle tremor he noticed in her hands.

“I can empathize with the laboratory emergency,” he told her with a wry twist to his face, trying to ease the strange tension in the room. “I’ve been having one of those myself. I was hoping the professor could help me.”

“I’m certain he will be very happy to do so,” the young lady replied, her tone carefully neutral as she handed him a cup.

“He has barely spoken of anything else since he received your letter,” she added.

Her tone didn’t reveal much, but Jasper sensed there were some negative feelings behind it. He couldn’t imagine why since they had never met before. He would certainly have remembered her. Something in her voice made him look up sharply. There was an edge there, a hint of... what? Resentment? But before he could analyse it further, she spoke again.

“Tell me about your problem,” she invited, settling back with her own cup. The sunlight streaming through the window created a halo effect around her figure, softening her edges while somehow making her seem more present, more real.

“Oh no, you wouldn’t want to be bored with that,” Jasper said automatically, then nearly winced as emotions flickered across her face—frustration, resignation, and something that might have been hurt, quickly masked.

He felt suddenly wrong-footed, remembering too late his own irritation when others dismissed his interests without giving him a chance to explain them. Maybe the Marquess was right and he wasn't fit for company after all.

Before he could spiral into tongue-tied confusion, his hostess spoke up.

“I’ve been listening to my father since I was in the cradle,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I probably have heard his lectures even more than you have.”

Jasper studied her with new interest. Could that be true? Might she actually understand the principles he was working with? It would certainly help to rehearse his explanation before meeting with the professor.

Slowly, he began to describe his device.

“My father has ore mines,” he began, watching her expression carefully for signs of boredom or confusion. “Mining ore is tedious and dangerous work. I’ve been trying to develop an automated tool that could assist. My goal is to speed up the work as well as reduce the number of injuries.”

“Well, that sounds like a worthy goal,” she commented.

Her tone remained mild, but Jasper noticed how her eyes had sharpened with interest, her fingers twitching slightly as though she wished to reach for his notes.

But she didn’t sound terribly excitable.

“What seems to be the problem with your device?” The question came in that same carefully neutral tone, but there was something underneath it—genuine curiosity, perhaps?

When Jasper sighed and shoved a frustrated hand through his hair, she leaned forward almost imperceptibly. He found himself explaining more than he’d intended.

“I don’t rightly know,” he admitted.

“I was hoping Professor Somerton could find it for me. The grinding mechanism keeps failing under pressure. I've tried reinforcing the gears, but," he broke off and shrugged helplessly, clearly without an answer.

"Have you considered using a compound system?" she asked, then immediately pressed her lips together as though regretting the question.

Jasper stared at her. "A compound system?"

"Well..." She gestured vaguely with her teacup, colour rising in her cheeks.

"If you're having trouble with direct force, perhaps distributing it through multiple smaller mechanisms..." She trailed off, clearly embarrassed by her own boldness.

Before he quite knew what he was doing, Jasper was pulling out his drawings, spreading them across the tea table with growing excitement.

"Like this?" he asked, sketching quickly in the margin.

Her eyes lit up, professional enthusiasm momentarily overwhelming social constraints.

"Exactly! But if you adjusted the angle here —" She reached for the pencil, then caught herself.

Jasper found himself holding out the pencil to her, surprising them both.

"Please," he said quietly. "Show me."

The beautiful Miss Somerton’s tinkle of laughter filled the room, and suddenly Jasper found himself feeling more light-hearted than he could have thought possible that day. Her questions demonstrated her understanding of the mechanisms, and she pointed out a number of things that would actually improve the function, much to his shock.

“I can hardly believe it,” he said before he could catch himself, realizing she was unlikely to appreciate his comment, inwardly cursing himself as her expression shuttered.

“Have you been studying for long?” he asked, trying to cover up his blunder.

The bitterness that filled her lovely face told him he'd only made things worse. Rather, he had opened a larger problem than he could have even imagined. Bitterness filled her lovely face, twisting it.

“Of course not,” she said as she gathered the teacups before the footman returned to collect them. “Women are not allowed to study, don’t you know?”

“Well, I suppose,” Jasper replied carefully, “but you obviously know much on the subject.”

She lifted a shoulder in a manner that Jasper suspected was supposed to indicate she didn’t care much for the topic, but he could tell that was not the case. She obviously felt many things about the fact that she was not allowed to pursue an education.

“How do you come to know so much, if you haven’t been allowed to study the topic?” he finally asked, realizing that he couldn’t avoid the topic.

“I read a lot,” she said, with a toss of her head as though daring him to challenge her.

“And of course, Father can’t help himself but to talk about it. And I listen at doors,” she added with a laugh that sounded almost genuine.

Jasper found himself warming to her obvious determination. He knew what it was to pursue knowledge against opposition, to feel that burning need to understand despite others' disapproval. Her desire for education was perhaps not so different from his own desire for his father's approval.

“I suspect you read everything you can get your hands on, don’t you?” he asked, somehow knowing the answer before she nodded shyly.

“No one truly thinks that I could understand any of the books, so they don’t really mind that I am looking at them, for the most part,” she explained, a hint of defiance creeping into her tone.

“You’re not going to tell on me, are you?” she asked suddenly, fixing him with a fierce stare that took him aback.

“No,” he replied immediately, surprising himself with his vehemence. “Obviously, you can understand it. It would be a shame to prevent you.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to explain to people, but no one wants to listen.”

Jasper laughed, startled by how much he was enjoying their conversation.

“I don’t suppose you would allow me to attend your meeting with my father?” she began tentatively.

Jasper almost objected, but then he saw the eagerly pleading expression on her face, and he just couldn’t do it. He was a little irritated by the thought of having her present, but he couldn’t really explain why, nor could he produce a sufficiently acceptable reason not to allow it.

“I look forward to hearing what you might have to contribute to the conversation,” he finally said, laughing when she snorted in response.

“It’s unlikely I’ll be allowed to contribute anything, but I am looking forward to listening. To both sides of the conversation,” she added meaningfully.

“Perhaps later you will share your thoughts with me, if you don’t feel comfortable doing so on first hearing,” Jasper offered, surprised to realize that he genuinely wanted to hear her perspectives.

As they waited for Professor Somerton to return, Jasper found himself sneaking glances at his unexpected ally. She wasn't at all what he'd expected to find in Oxford, but perhaps that was exactly what both his device and his understanding needed—a fresh perspective, unconstrained by traditional academic thinking.

He only hoped her father would be as open to unconventional ideas as his daughter clearly was.