Page 17 of Charming the Headmistress (Spinsters and their Suitors #3)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

C amden arrived in the village earlier than necessary on Thursday morning, though he told himself it was only to run errands.

The excuse was flimsy, even to his own ears, but he clung to it nonetheless.

Miss Langford had mentioned that she would be in town around noon on Thursday.

He didn’t want to miss her, so he had to have reasons enough to be in town by the eleventh hour.

The town’s high street was modest, lined with tidy shopfronts—bakers, drapers, stationers, a cooper’s yard at the end—and just enough bustle to justify his loitering.

A dog barked at a passing cart, two children chased each other along the path, and a barrow vendor called out the price of early rhubarb.

Camden walked the length of the street once, then again, peering into windows with vague interest. At the stationer’s, he stepped inside and ran a hand over the neat stack of sketchbooks near the front display.

He bought one—fine, thick paper, bound in sturdy leather.

A little extravagant for a schoolgirl, but Helena had a steady hand, and if art helped her come out of her shell, then it was worth every penny.

He added a small tin of charcoal pencils and, with only the barest hesitation, a roll of soft lavender ribbon.

Back outside, the bell of the bakery chimed, and he glanced over, wondering which of the many different kinds of rolls and sweet displayed would most interest Miss Langford. But before he could decide, a flicker of familiar silhouette caught his eye.

Miss Langford.

She stepped gracefully out of a ribbon shop across the street, her basket full of modest parcels and wrapped jars—likely salves, pastilles, and a bundle of beeswax candles—her posture straight and purposeful despite the lively street around her.

Camden straightened instinctively, smoothing his coat.

He’d expected to see her, yes—but that didn’t stop his pulse from quickening.

He crossed the street, timing his approach so that he wouldn't appear overeager.

“Miss Langford,” he said, inclining his head. “I’m glad to have caught you. I feared I might’ve missed you and been left to wander the village like a forlorn puppy.”

She looked up, clearly surprised, but composed as ever. “Lord Camden. You’re early.”

He lifted a brow. “Only by half an hour. Perhaps I’m simply prompt.”

“Perhaps,” she replied, though there was the smallest tug at the corner of her mouth. “Though I suspect you’ve already visited most of the shops twice.”

He gave a rueful smile. “You wound me, Miss Langford.”

She glanced down at the parcel in his hand. “Shopping for yourself?”

He hesitated, then held it out. “Not exactly. I picked this up for Helena. She asked I bring her a sketchbook.”

She accepted it to examine, her brows lifting slightly. “This is quite fine. And thoughtful. I believe she’ll appreciate it.”

“I hoped you might approve,” he said.

She returned it to his hand with a nod and turned to go, but as she stepped away from the shop, the toe of her boot caught on a loose bit of cobblestone.

Camden reached out and caught her by the elbow, steadying her and preventing her from tumbling to the ground. Two parcels slid out of her basket, but the rest remained unmoved.

He felt the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her sleeve, the delicate tension in her frame, and the sudden closeness that stole his breath for half a second.

She let out a small breath. “Thank you.”

His brain struggled for words to respond as he looked into her eyes. “Of course.”

He knelt to retrieve the fallen items, tucking them neatly back into the basket she carried. Once the parcels were secured, he rose and took the basket from her hands before she could protest.

“You don’t have to carry that,” she said.

“I know, but I do not mind. Are there other places you will need to visit before you leave the town?”

“I have finished all the business I need to today.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Finished early. It is a good thing I caught up with you then. You might have already left the town had I not seen you.”

She gave him a smile, but didn’t confirm the truth of his statement.

They began the walk back to Greenbrook, the lane dappled in spring sunlight, soft leaves unfurling on the hedges along the path. Camden matched her pace easily.

“I hope you didn’t think me too forward for asking to accompany you again,” he said after a few minutes.

“It is kind of you,” she said. “I am always happy to speak of the progress of my students.”

Camden blinked. He had not thought to ask her anything about Helena today.

He had seen how Miss Langford helped her, and he knew that while progress might look slow, that change was bound to take time.

He didn’t need to continually check on Helena’s progress to believe that progress was being made, but he appreciated the ability to visit Helena and have tea with her weekly to help build the relationship that he had with his niece.

“I am grateful for what you have done for Helena so far.”

She glanced over. “Thank you, Lord Camden. I appreciate your faith in me, particularly given our initially differing perspectives. I am always happy to share my opinions.”

“I am glad that you are willing to share your opinions.” He stopped in the middle of the path and turned to face Miss Langford directly. “I do not know everything in this matter, but I am willing to learn.”

“You are doing a fine job, Lord Camden. Some circumstances are more difficult than others. I can only imagine that this has been a trying time for both of you.” Her eyes were kind as she spoke.

Camden swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat. Now would not be the time to indulge in showing such emotion. “Thank you,” he said quietly. Then he looped her arm through his and began walking down the path with her again.

They continued on in silence for a few paces, then he asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, Miss Langford—what made you choose this work?”

Her expression shifted slightly, her gaze softening. “I was fortunate as a girl to attend a small academy, not so different from Greenbrook. My headmistress was firm but kind. She believed in me, even when I gave her no reason to. That sort of faith leaves an impression.”

He nodded, absorbing the weight of that.

“She shaped how I saw the world,” Eleanor continued. “When the opportunity came—this school was once run by my aunt—I knew I wanted to continue that legacy.”

“You’ve certainly made an impression on Helena,” Camden said. “Even if she’s not always quick to say so.”

“I appreciate that. She’s different from many of the girls. I’ve had to try new approaches. Drawing seems to be the most effective.”

They turned onto the lane leading to Greenbrook, the school’s roofline just coming into view.

“I’m grateful for the work you’ve done,” he said. “I didn’t know how to help her. I still don’t, half the time. But you’ve already made a difference.”

She looked at him then, eyes meeting his. “We’re both trying. That matters.”

They reached the front steps of the school, and Eleanor slowed, her arm still linked with his. For a moment, she looked up at him, then glanced toward the door, as if reconsidering something.

She spoke more softly this time. “Would you … care to come in for tea?”

The question caught him off guard, not for what it was, but for the way she asked it—gentle, almost tentative, as though she hadn’t quite decided if she wanted him to accept or hoped that he would not.

Camden’s heart gave an unexpected thud. Tea. With her. Just the two of them.

He ought to be cautious. He hadn’t come here to court anyone—especially not someone so invested in her responsibilities, so very proper.

And yet.

There was something about the way she looked at him just then. Not guarded, as she had been before, but open. Vulnerable, even. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted to be on the receiving end of that look until now.

His lips curved, slow and warm. “With you?”

A touch of color rose to her cheeks. “Unless you’d rather take tea with the kitchen staff.”

That startled a short laugh from him, and he found he didn’t want the moment to end.

“I’d be honored,” he said—and meant it more than he expected.

As she reached for the door, he let the thought rise, uninvited but clear:

Miss Langford was not at all what he’d expected. Yet more and more, he was beginning to suspect that she might be precisely what he needed.