Page 15 of Charming the Headmistress (Spinsters and their Suitors #3)

CHAPTER TWELVE

T he soft hum of Haverton House’s morning routines filled the air as Camden sat in his study, the morning sun casting gold across the edge of his desk.

In front of him lay the same letter from Miss Langford that had stirred him days ago—neatly folded but slightly worn at the edges from where he had handled it too often.

It was brief, polite, and maddeningly restrained.

And yet, since receiving it, his mind had felt clearer.

A week had passed since he had stormed into Miss Langford's office demanding answers. A week since he had stood toe-to-toe with a woman who didn’t flinch beneath his title.

It had been five days since he’d seen her in town.

In the time since, he had thrown himself back into work—restoring Haverton’s ledgers, answering correspondence from London, and meeting with tenants and estate agents alike.

Somehow, he had accomplished more in these past few days than he had managed in the previous fortnight.

Perhaps it was knowing Helena was well looked after. Perhaps it was knowing that someone else—someone competent—was sharing in the responsibility. Still, that didn’t stop him from wishing he could see Helena more than once a week.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked up as a familiar voice broke his thoughts.

“You’re staring at that letter again, aren’t you?”

Camden glanced toward the door as Lord Kensington strolled in, dressed far too meticulously for someone not holding a single responsibility at the moment. He carried a cup of tea in one hand.

“It’s a good letter,” Camden said dryly.

“It’s two lines. And you’ve read them fifty times. Admit it—she got under your skin.”

“Underneath my skin? Hardly. The woman can’t look at me without disdain. I practically had to force her to let me carry her basket on the way from town.”

“She’s a challenge for you.” Kensington chuckled, lowering himself into the armchair by the hearth.

“She’s the headmistress of my niece’s school. That’s all. I need to stay on her good side, or at least avoid being placed directly on her bad side.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing? You’ve been positively productive this week. Repaired that broken lease in Ridley, sorted out the tenant issue at Ashcombe, even started the annual budget. I’d say Miss Langford has done more than keep Helena in line—she’s snapped you into form.”

Camden rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. There was truth in it, and Kensington knew it.

“It’s been easier to focus,” he admitted. “Knowing Helena’s in good hands.”

Kensington raised a brow. “The school’s been good for both of you. Mark my words, in another few months, you’ll have everything running smooth as you please.”

Camden nodded slowly, then leaned back in his chair. “Speaking of running smoothly—would you do me a favor?”

“Depends on the favor. If it’s marrying a widow with a fortune, I decline.”

Camden gave him a look. “Nothing so sinister. How would I ever suggest a shackling for you when I wouldn’t want that for myself, fortune or not.”

“What is your favor then?”

“I need someone in London to oversee the refurbishments on my townhouse. It’s long overdue, and I won’t have time to go down myself. Would you handle it?”

Kensington blinked, then gave a theatrical sigh. “You trust me with draperies and wall moldings?”

“I trust you with tradesmen and efficiency.”

“Ah, that I can do,” Kensington said, rising and straightening his coat. “Very well. I’ll leave for London in the morning. But only because I’ve grown tired of you frowning over every bit of correspondence like it insulted your horse.”

Camden smirked. “Thank you.”

Kensington paused at the doorway. “You’ll visit her again this week?”

Camden nodded. “I will visit Helena tomorrow. It’s allowed now. As long as I keep to the rules.”

Kensington gave him a sidelong glance. “You’re not usually one for rules.”

“Miss Langford is not usually one for flexibility. Yet here we are.”

With that, Kensington gave a low chuckle and stepped out of the room.

Camden remained seated for a long moment, staring once more at the letter.

Helena was safe. Progressing. Even smiling.

And the woman who had assured him of it had done more than offer a service. She had challenged him, disarmed him —and left him wondering just how often she occupied his thoughts.

Not that he’d ever say as much aloud. Not that he needed to for Kensington to pick up on it.

But as he tucked the letter into his coat pocket, there was no denying it: He was looking forward to his next visit to Greenbrook Academy more than he had intended.

Greenbrook Academy was as orderly as ever, its stone facade bathed in afternoon light. Camden stepped from the carriage with purposeful strides, entering the building with the sense of someone who had learned the lay of the land.

The air inside Greenbrook was cool and quiet as Camden was led through the hallways once more toward Miss Langford's office.

He had expected to feel the same frustration and unease as before, but instead, there was a strange calm settling over him.

Maybe it was because he knew the battle lines had already been drawn.

There was no need to assert himself now.

He would simply observe, assess, and ensure that Helena was thriving.

But as he approached Miss Langford's office, he couldn’t shake the lingering thoughts of their last interaction. The way she had looked at him—clear-eyed, unwavering, and completely unfazed by his title. She had held her own in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

As the door opened, Camden straightened his coat and stepped inside. Miss Langford was seated behind her desk, much as she had been the time before. Her expression was neutral, but there was a certain sharpness in her eyes, as though she had already anticipated whatever he might say.

“Lord Camden,” she greeted him with a nod. “Punctual, as always.”

Camden gave a small smile, unsure whether she meant it as a compliment or simply an observation. “Miss Langford. Thank you for accommodating the visit.”

“Of course,” she replied, her tone as measured as ever. “Miss Moreland will join us shortly.”

There was a brief pause as Camden glanced around the room, his gaze catching on the neat stacks of papers and ledgers that lined the desk. He couldn’t help but recall their previous conversation about the school’s finances, and the question he had overheard—something about outstanding expenses.

“Are you always so busy?” he asked, more to fill the silence than anything else.

Miss Langford's lips curved ever so slightly, though her expression remained composed. “Running an academy for young ladies requires a great deal of attention. There’s always something to be done.”

Camden raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you manage it all with such ease.”

“I assure you, Lord Camden, it is not always as easy as it may seem,” Miss Langford replied smoothly. “But I believe in the work we do here.”

Camden studied her for a moment, noting the quiet strength in her voice. There was a strength behind the calm exterior she projected. It was as though she carried the weight of the school with such grace, never letting it show how heavy the burden truly was.

A soft knock sounded at the door. At the pronouncement by Miss Langford, the door opened, revealing Helena.

Helena’s eyes lit up when she saw Camden. “Hello Uncle.”

“Good afternoon, Helena. I brought something for you.”

He retrieved a small parcel wrapped in wax paper from the satchel he’d carried in with him.

Helena accepted it with a faint nod. Her fingers unwrapped the paper to reveal a perfectly rounded cherry tart, glazed and neatly wrapped.

She said nothing, but her eyes lingered on it, then flicked toward the window.

“Do you still like those?” he asked.

A pause. Then, softly, “Yes.”

Miss Langford gestured to the small sitting area. “Tea has already been set for both of you.”

A small table had been set near the window with a tray of tea and two modest plates full of sandwiches and sugared shortbread biscuits.

Helena sat primly in her chair, hands folded in her lap, gaze flickering between the tea things and the floorboards.

Across the room, Miss Langford remained at her desk, her quill moving deliberately across a page.

Camden sat down across from Helena, trying not to make too much noise shifting the chair. He poured them each a cup of tea, the silence stretching long between every movement.

“How has your drawing been?” he asked.

Helena gave a shrug so slight it was nearly imperceptible.

He tried again. “Miss Langford told me you’ve spent time in the conservatory. That must be pleasant with the weather warming.”

Another nod.

Behind them, the scratching of pen on paper slowed. Camden glanced toward Miss Langford's desk, but she didn’t look up. Whether she was truly engrossed or merely giving them space, he couldn’t tell.

Helena ate the tart. “It’s very delicious. Are you going to have one?”

Camden shook his head. “I only brought two with me today, and I wanted to make sure that Miss Langford has one as well.”

Camden stood and placed the second cherry tart on a small plate. He took the dessert to her desk. “In case you would like it,” he said.

“Thank you, Lord Camden. It was unnecessary, but kind of you.”

Minutes passed in slow, quiet sips and half-started questions. He asked if Helena had explored the gardens. She answered with a quiet “a little.” He asked if she liked the food. She said, “It’s fine.”

When the tea had gone cold in their cups, Miss Langford finally stood. She approached the table with measured steps, her gaze settling briefly on Helena before turning to Lord Camden.

“Your lessons will be resuming soon,” she said to Helena.

Helena nodded and turned to Camden. “Goodbye, Uncle. It is good to see you.”

Camden smiled at his niece. “I look forward to our time next week. Is there something you’d like next time I come? Something I can bring?”

“A new sketchbook.”

Camden nodded. “I will do that. Anything else?”

“A Chelsea bun,” she said quietly.

Miss Langford smiled faintly at that, and Camden caught it—the small curl of her mouth, warm and sincere. He tucked it away.

Camden nodded. “Of course. Perhaps I shall bring one for Miss Langford as well.”

Miss Langford blinked. “That’s not necessary.” It was hard to say if the look she gave him held amusement or reproach.

Camden could see Miss Langford's fluster at the suggestion, and for some reason he found it immensely amusing. Could such a thing throw her off? And why did he enjoy doing that? “I know it’s not necessary,” he responded, not giving her the chance to argue the point with him again.

When Helena left the room, Miss Langford smiled. “That was more conversation than she’s offered most days this week,” she said gently.

“Truly? I thought she was adjusting better than that.”

“She is adjusting,” Eleanor replied. “But it’s a slow process. There is progress being made, just not always in ways one can measure at a glance.”

Camden lingered a moment longer. “Thank you for letting me visit,” he said. “I know I still have much to learn about how best to support her.”

Miss Langford nodded. “You’re here. That counts for something.”

He hesitated. “When will you be in town next? If it’s not an imposition, I wondered if I might walk you back to the school again.”

She looked slightly taken aback. “Thursday around noon. But it is not necessary, Lord Camden,” she protested.

“Then I’ll see you Thursday.”

She nodded once more. “Good day, Lord Camden.”

“Good day, Miss Langford.”

As he left the room, he carried with him the smallest flicker of hope—and the unmistakable impression that both Helena and her headmistress were puzzles worth understanding.