Page 21 of Charming the Headmistress (Spinsters and their Suitors #3)

"Not a bad idea," Kensington remarked. "It’s a good way to involve the families more closely in the school’s success. I imagine many would be eager to contribute if approached properly."

Camden nodded, though his thoughts remained on Miss Langford. She had seemed open to his suggestion, and there had been something in her eyes—something that told him she was considering it carefully.

"I’m planning to visit again next week,” Camden said, his tone more reflective now. His scheduled visit was only a few days away, and he was looking forward to it more than he wanted to let on. Aloud he said, “Helena’s progress has been steady, and it does her good to see a familiar face.”

Kensington’s lips curved in a sly smile. “Ah, yes—your devoted oversight. And I suspect ensuring the headmistress remains as poised and fascinating as ever is simply an added benefit?”

Camden shot him a sharp look, though his eyes betrayed a reluctant amusement. “I said nothing of the kind.”

Kensington held up his hands in mock surrender. “Of course not. You’ve always been a paragon of restraint.”

“Come, I’m growing rather tired of this line of thinking. I’d rather leave your insinuations behind for a few miles.”

“A race, then?” Kensington asked, rising with a spark of boyish challenge. “Winner chooses the first stop in town—tea cakes or ale?”

Camden’s answering grin was swift and unguarded. “You’re on.”

Camden stepped into the headmistress’s office, expecting to find Miss Langford alone—but his gaze landed instead on Helena, already seated near Miss Langford's desk with her hands folded primly in her lap. Her eyes widened when she saw him, and she straightened a little in her chair.

“Hello, Uncle,” Helena said, smiling at him.

“It’s good to see you, Helena,” Camden said.

“Lord Camden,” Miss Langford greeted with her usual calm, rising to offer a polite nod. Today she wore a soft green gown that set off the warm hue of her eyes, and Camden’s breath caught before he mastered himself. “You’re right on time.”

“Thank you, Miss Langford,” he said, his tone warm as he moved further into the room. “I didn’t realize you’d be ready so quickly. I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

“Helena has been waiting quite eagerly,” Miss Langford replied, the faintest hint of a smile touching her lips as she glanced at the girl.

“I have so many things to tell you,” Helena said brightly.

Camden smiled at his niece and then looked to Miss Langford, who was smiling at Helena as well. When she met Camden’s gaze, a slight touch of pink entered her cheeks.

“The tea has already been set for you,” Miss Langford said, gesturing to the table near the windows.

“I hope there is a setting for three,” Camden said. “You will join us again, won’t you?”

Miss Langford's eyes widened for only a moment. “If you wish it, I will. But I should not wish to intrude.”

“You are not intruding,” Helena said.

“Very well,” Miss Langford said, following them to the table.

“Miss Langford is very kind,” Helena said to Camden.

The words were few, but Camden heard the sincerity in them—and saw the slight flush of her cheeks. His chest eased at the sight. He caught Miss Langford's eye for the briefest second, gratitude unspoken between them.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Camden said, his voice softening as he turned back to Helena.

Helena poured the tea with Miss Langford's guidance.

Camden reached into the small basket he’d brought, withdrawing two carefully wrapped pastries.

“Speaking of promises kept—one for you.” He handed Helena the sugared Chelsea bun he’d brought from Mrs. Delaney’s bakery.

“And I haven’t forgotten Miss Langford,” he added, turning to offer her a neatly wrapped lemon cream bun.

She looked at him in faint surprise. As she accepted the bun, her fingers brushed his—cool and delicate—and he was struck by the urge to lift them once more to his lips, to see her cheeks warm in that pretty pink again.

“Thank you, Lord Camden,” she said, her eyes bright.

The green gown brought out the green flecks in her hazel eyes perfectly—eyes he found difficult to look away from.

He found himself captivated by the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled, a softness breaking through her professional composure.

He cleared his throat, shifting to hide his sudden awareness of how the afternoon light played across the warm brown waves of her hair. “You’re most welcome, Miss Langford.”

Once the tea was poured, and everyone had filled their plates with sandwiches and pastries, Camden turned his attention once again to Helena. “How are your lessons going?”

"Better," she admitted as she took the chair beside him. "We had a drawing lesson this morning. Miss Bellamy had us copy a still life. Mine didn’t look anything like the fruit on the table, but she said it showed 'promise.'"

He chuckled quietly, warmth threading his tone. "That sounds like a very kind way of saying you need practice."

Helena grinned—a real, wide grin that made his heart feel impossibly light. "That’s what I thought, too."

They fell into easy conversation—she told him the names of the girls she sat beside, about her schedule, and even the story she had started reading in the library.

Helena launched into an animated account of her story—a young heroine who yearned to explore the world beyond the hedgerows, who wanted to write books rather than attend teas.

Camden listened intently, asking questions that drew Helena out further.

Her sentences grew longer, her voice more confident, and Miss Langford's approving expression didn’t escape his notice.

He found himself glancing at her more often than Helena, wondering what Miss Langford was thinking, what she saw in him—and whether she might ever look at him with the same quiet fondness he glimpsed when she watched Helena.

"It’s about a girl who doesn’t want to get married," Helena said. "But not because she doesn’t like anyone. She just wants to travel and write books instead."

Camden tilted his head. "And do you think she’s wrong for wanting that?”

Helena considered this. "No. But I think she’s going to fall in love anyway."

He smiled. “A wise prediction."

They moved on to stories of Greenbrook life: how one of the girls sneezed so violently during music practice that Miss Denby nearly fell off the piano stool; how the gardens smelled in the mornings; how Helena found peace in the library.

“I miss riding,” she admitted shyly, tracing the edge of her skirt. “But the library is quiet. Peaceful.”

Camden’s chest tightened. “Perhaps when you’re home again, you can have both—long rides in the morning, quiet reading in the afternoon.”

“I should like that,” Helena said.

Camden pulled out the sketchbook from the basket. “I brought you this as well.”

“A new sketchbook. Thank you, Uncle. The ribbon is very beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“My sketchbook is almost finished.”

Camden nodded. “I know.”

By the time Mrs. Carter reappeared to escort her back to class, Helena looked genuinely disappointed to leave.

Camden watched as Helena stood, feeling an unexpected pang at their brief separation. "I’ll be back next week,” he promised, "as we arranged."

"Good," Helena said. "And don’t forget a pastry from cook.”

He laughed softly. "I promise." He watched her go, pride and affection welling in his chest.

Helena left the room with Mrs. Carter, and the door clicked shut behind them, leaving a quiet that felt at once comfortable and electric.

Camden turned back to Miss Langford. Her gaze lingered on the door for a moment before meeting his, a light of gratitude softening her features.

The silence that momentarily settled between them felt thick, as though the very air between them remembered the warmth of their shared laughter.

He found himself reluctant to break it, wanting to memorize the light on her hair, the curve of her lips.

“She’s flourishing,” he said. “Because of you.”

“And you,” she countered gently. “She looks forward to these visits, Lord Camden.”

“As do I,” he said.

He hesitated, reaching into the basket one last time to pull out the slim leather-bound gothic novel. “I have something else.”

Miss Langford smiled. “I will be sure to give anything you’d like to Helena.”

He shook his head. “It’s not for Helena. It’s for you.” He extended the book toward her.

Miss Langford's lips moved into a perfect O as she looked at the volume. “A gothic novel?”

“You mentioned your fondness for gloomy castles and gothic novels.”

“That is most thoughtful of you,” she said, her fingers brushing his as she accepted the book. “I shall return it next week.”

His heart beat a little faster as he watched her fingers rest on the cover, delicate and capable; he realized he wanted her to think of him whenever she turned a page. The revelation startled him. He shook his head, his voice dropping low. “You do not have to return it. It’s yours.”

“That is very generous of you, Lord Camden,” Miss Langford said.

“It’s nothing,” he said.

“I shall let you know how I like it.”

A quiet certainty settled over him, and he wanted to see her like this again. “I’ll return next week,” he said, his tone threaded with something more personal than he intended.

“I’ll look forward to it,” she answered, her voice a soft lilt that sent a thrill through him.

As he stepped back to leave, Camden bowed, catching her eyes one last time. And he found himself already counting the days until he would return.