Page 85 of Inventing Vivian

The crowd shifted, and she saw that a pair of chairs had been brought to the back corner of the booth. Her father sat in one, his canes leaning against the wall behind him. He waved, and she took a seat beside him.

“I’m so glad you’ve come, Father,” Vivian said. She kissed his cheek and studied his face closely for any sign that he was in pain. Just thinking of how far he’d had to walk to get to the booth made her wince.

“That vehicle of yours has caused quite a stir.” He smiled. “I knew it would.”

“It is all so overwhelming. I thought I would be disqualified, but you and my friends...” She clasped the stack of cards to her chest. “I am just so grateful.”

“Lady Sophronia explained a bit about what happened and where you’ve been.” He raised a knowing brow. “Carefully leaving out details that would worry a father, I believe.”

“I should have told you,” Vivian said.

“I’m proud of you, my daughter.” He took her hand. “You were willing to give up all this.” He motioned around the booth. “Mr. Li is a good man who was put in an impossible situation. He deserves friends like you.”

He glanced behind Vivian. “And has Lord Benedict come today as well?”

“I don’t think he’s coming,” Vivian said.

Her father must have seen something in her eyes, because his gaze sharpened, and he looked more closely at her. He squeezed her hand and leaned closer. “I had reservations when I learned Winifred invited His Lordship to supper last week. After the way he treated you all those years ago, I didn’t know if I could trust the man. But he’s—”

“He’s changed,” Vivian said.

“He has indeed,” her father agreed. “I don’t know if I’ve met a finer gentleman. A person can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats those less fortunate. From what I hear about how he’s managing his factories, he’s genuinely trying to improve the lot of the workers in his employ. He’s even patient with Chester, which is saying something, now, isn’t it?”

She nodded. He was right, of course.

“Now, then, my dear. I believe you might have some feelings for the man, is that so?”

Vivian’s cheeks flamed with heat. Her father’s directness was something she normally appreciated about him, but in this case, his bluntness made her uncomfortable. “I don’t know.”

“Lady Sophronia told us His Lordship is your patron for the exhibition,” her father said.

“He is,” Vivian said.

“There’s something special about a person who believes in us, isn’t there?”

She nodded again, and her father squeezed her hand, letting her know he’d said all he’d meant to about the matter unless she chose to continue the conversation.

Vivian found that she couldn’t. After a moment, she excused herself to greet the people waiting to speak to her. It was easier to focus on the exhibition than to think of Benedict.

As the morning went on, Dahlia and Sophie came to relieve Elizabeth and Hazel, and in the afternoon, Professor Wallis stopped by to visit. The day was splendid as Vivian met with manufacturers and other inventors. But she felt a sting at the absence of the person she’d most hoped to see at the exhibition. More than once, she thought of a detail to include in her letter to him, but an instant later she remembered that she’d vowed never to write to him again. She’d even called him selfish. The words she’d spoken burned in her thoughts, filling her with shame. Lord Benedict had proven himself to be anything but that.

When the memories came into her mind—his declaration, his kiss—her stomach twisted. She’d gone against the true affections of her heart. But she reminded herself that the choice she’d made was logical. Lord Benedict was nothing like her. They had no interests in common. He would quickly tire of her eccentricities. And allowing herself to feel affection, to risking being hurt... it was more frightening than Lord Hargreave’s pistols or his henchmen.

As Devon drove her home that evening, she watched the darkened city pass the window, and her father’s words came to her mind.There is something special about a person who believes in us.

She thought back through all the years: the Newton League of Young Inventors, schoolteachers who did not think science was for girls, noblemen she had petitioned for a sponsorship... they had rejected her ideas again and again. But Lord Benedict... he’d listened to her ideas, trusted her plans, complimented her ingenuity. He’d believed in her when few had.

She remembered his words after he’d kissed her:We are different; it is true. But that is what makes us perfect together. Don’t you see? We complete each other.

Could that mean he truly... ? She sighed. Could she ever fix the mess she’d made? What if she allowed herself to be vulnerable and he rejected her? Was it too late? Did she dare try?

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