Page 23 of Charming the Headmistress (Spinsters and their Suitors #3)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

T he sky had been threatening all morning, but Camden hadn’t expected the clouds to break so fiercely.

Rain lashed the carriage windows as he turned onto the main road into town.

He was returning from a meeting with a tenant farmer when a figure caught his eye—someone striding resolutely through the downpour, skirts sodden, bonnet drooping, hair curling damply around pale cheeks.

Miss Langford.

A surge of urgency propelled him to signal the driver to halt. He threw open the carriage door and called above the roar of rain, “Miss Langford! Might I be of assistance?”

She looked up, startled, eyes wide with rain-slicked lashes. Water traced delicate paths down her face, and a rush of protectiveness tightened his chest.

“I fear you’ll dissolve if you stay out in this weather,” he teased gently, forcing lightness into his voice. “Shall I take you into town, or would you prefer to return to Greenbrook?”

She hesitated, shivering. “I must pick up a few things in town.”

“Then please,” he said, stepping aside and extending his hand. He steadied her carefully as she climbed up, his hands lingering a moment longer than propriety dictated. Her grateful eyes met his, bright even through the storm.

Inside, the carriage was warm, but she was drenched through. Camden pulled a blanket from the seat beside him, shaking it out before draping it gently around her shoulders.

“You’re freezing,” he said softly. “This should help.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice low, her lips trembling faintly. “I didn’t mean to inconvenience you.”

“You could never be an inconvenience,” he replied, meeting her gaze with quiet intensity. “I’m just relieved to have found you before the storm carried you off.”

She let out a small, breathless laugh despite her shivers. “It wasn’t raining when I left Greenbrook. By the time it began, I was too far along to turn back.”

“Your determination is admirable,” he said, his voice warm, “but next time, let me offer you a carriage ride before the heavens open.”

The pounding rain against the roof of the carriage made it difficult to hold a conversation as they rode into town.

When they arrived, Camden stepped down first, scanning the street.

Water rushed through the cobbled gutters, and deep puddles pooled along the edges.

He turned back to her with a reassuring smile.

“Allow me,” he said firmly. As she stepped to the edge of the carriage, he slipped an arm around her waist and lifted her over the worst of the puddles, setting her down lightly on the dry step outside the apothecary. She blinked up at him, breathless with gratitude.

“I’ll wait here,” he said. “Take all the time you need.”

While she disappeared inside the apothecary, Camden waited outside beneath the carriage’s canopy, the rain drumming a steady beat overhead.

His thoughts spun with a restless energy he hadn’t felt in years.

Eleanor Langford—so calm, so resolute—had looked almost fragile standing in the rain, yet there was nothing weak about her.

Her determination, her quiet courage deepened his admiration of her.

When she emerged, packages in hand, Camden stepped forward without hesitation.

Slipping an arm around her waist, he lifted her cleanly across the rushing gutter, setting her down on the drier side of the street.

She looked up at him, lips parted, breathless.

Her damp lashes framed eyes that shone like polished emeralds.

“Thank you,” she said, as he once again helped her into his carriage.

“This will not do,” he said, voice low and firm. “You’re half-frozen.”

“Lord Camden, you’ve already done so much—” she began, her voice trembling.

He shook his head, cutting her off with a quiet, resolute intensity. “No protests. I won’t hear of it. We’re going to the tea shop.”

On a sunny day, the walk from the apothecary to the tea shop was enjoyable, but on a rainy day like today, Camden was glad he’d taken the carriage instead of just his horse.

When the carriage stopped in front of the tea shop, Camden once again helped Miss Langford down from the carriage.

He was grateful the rain gave an excuse to help her down and carry her across the puddles in the street.

She felt right in his arms, as if she perfectly fit next to him.

She slipped on the slick stones beneath her feet, but his arm was around her before she could fall.

Pink touched her cheeks. “Thank you, Lord Camden.”

Inside the warm tea shop, the scent of steeping leaves and baking scones wrapped around them like a comforting blanket.

Camden steered her to a table near the hearth, the heat of the fire quickly chasing the chill from the air, ignoring the curious glances of the other patrons.

They ordered strong tea, delicate cucumber sandwiches, and slices of currant cake dusted with sugar.

He shrugged out of his damp coat and rested it on the back of his chair, then looked across the small table. The flickering light from the fire caught the deep chestnut of her hair, the soft pink still lingering on her cheeks.

A server brought the meal. After the tea had been poured, Eleanor cupped the porcelain in her hands, her cheeks regaining color with each sip.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked, leaning forward, his eyes lingering on the way her damp hair clung to her temples.

She smiled faintly, a little shy. “Much better, thanks to you.”

“How are preparations for Scholars’ Afternoon coming along?” he asked, shifting to safer ground, though he found himself far more intrigued by her perspective than the event itself.

She exhaled, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “There is still much to arrange—finalizing performances, ensuring the girls are confident, preparing the staff. It feels monumental.”

He admired the determined light in her eyes. “I have every confidence it will be a triumph,” he said quietly. “I’m eager to see Helena’s progress. And yours.”

Their eyes held, the moment stretching until the clink of a teacup broke the spell. Eleanor cleared her throat. “I’m glad you’ll be there.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, meaning it more than he dared show. His mouth curved, admiring the earnest way she spoke. “In a fortnight, you said?”

She nodded, a lock of hair slipping loose. “Yes. I do hope it will show the girls’ progress and reflect well on the academy.”

“I’ve no doubt it will.” His voice was quiet, sincere. “And tomorrow—I look forward to visiting Helena again. I believe it’s one of the few things in my week I genuinely anticipate.”

Their eyes locked across the small table. “That will be nice. Helena always enjoys your visits.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

She broke the gaze first, fiddling with the handle of her teacup. “I’ve been reading the book you lent me,” she said softly, almost shyly. “It’s wonderful. I lose myself in its pages.”

He smiled, his heart lurching. “It’s not a loan, Miss Langford—it’s a gift. I hoped you’d find some joy in it.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “It’s a rare first edition. I couldn’t possibly—”

He shook his head, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles. “I want you to have it.”

Her eyes softened, gratitude shimmering in their depths. “Thank you, truly.”

“You’re welcome.”

For a moment, the busy clatter of the tea shop fell away. All he could see was the flush on her cheeks, the vulnerability and strength interwoven in her expression.

As the tea was finished and plates were cleared, Camden signaled for the carriage to be brought around.

Eleanor hesitated at the threshold of the shop, glancing at the sheets of rain still falling outside.

He didn’t give her the chance to step into the puddles alone; his hands found her waist with a sureness that startled them both.

He lifted her easily into the carriage, the warmth of her body lingering against his hands longer than propriety would allow.

Inside the carriage, the soft sway of the ride, the muted patter of rain on the roof, and the hush of the road set the world apart from everything outside.

Camden settled across from her, the space between them a charged, delicate thing.

He draped the blanket over her lap again, brushing against her skirts.

Their eyes met in the dim light filtering through the rain-slicked windows.

Eleanor cleared her throat softly. “Thank you, again. I don’t know what I would have done without your kindness.”

He turned to her fully, wanting—aching—to say what was pounding in his chest. Her eyes, bright and searching, seemed to see more than he wished to reveal.

“I only wish I could do more,” he murmured. “I find myself looking forward to these moments with you.” His voice was husky, almost betraying him.

The words felt heavy with truth, but not quite enough. Should he tell her? Should he confess the thought that had been haunting him since their last tea, the realization that she was becoming something irreplaceable in his life?

He studied her face—the way a few damp curls framed her temples, the way her lips parted as if she, too, was holding back words.

His heart clenched with the fierce urge to speak.

Yet, as the carriage rattled over a rut in the road, he remembered the Academy’s traditions, her deep commitment to her girls, and the delicate balance they had only just found.

Now was not the time.

Not when her responsibilities weighed so heavily upon her, when his own life felt only half-stabilized. His longing, his growing certainty that his future could not feel complete without her, would have to wait.

But he couldn’t help himself entirely. “Eleanor,” he said quietly—her given name slipping out before he could catch it. She turned sharply toward him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed.

“Yes, my lord?”

He swallowed, the taste of her name still sweet on his tongue. “I admire what you do here, what you’ve built. Greenbrook is a remarkable place. And you … you are remarkable.”

Her breath caught, a soft sound in the hush of the carriage. She looked down, fingers twisting the edge of the blanket. “You are very generous with your words.”

“Only honest,” he said softly, voice rough with restrained feeling.

The rest of the journey passed in quiet awareness, every jolt of the carriage a reminder of their proximity.

When they arrived at Greenbrook, Camden leapt down first, extending his hand.

She took it, and he helped her down carefully.

Her slippered feet barely touched the muddy drive before he swept her up again, carrying her across the final puddles to the Academy’s door.

Once under the portico, he lowered her gently.

Rain dripped from the eaves, framing them in a curtain of silver.

She looked up at him, cheeks flushed, a damp ringlet plastered to her temple.

Without thinking, Camden reached out and brushed it aside with the backs of his fingers, the touch lingering just long enough for his breath to catch—and hers to stutter.

Her eyes closed for a brief moment at his touch.

Then her eyes opened and met his, wide and unguarded, and the world seemed to still for a single, fragile heartbeat.

He bowed over her hand, lips brushing the back of it, lingering for one breathless heartbeat.

“Until tomorrow,” he said softly, his eyes locking with hers. “Stay warm, Miss Langford.”

She swallowed hard, eyes luminous. “Safe travels, my lord.”

He stepped back, every instinct warring with the need to stay. But he turned, climbed into the carriage, and as it rolled away, he watched her silhouette in the doorway, feeling as though he was leaving a part of himself behind.

In the quiet of the carriage, Camden exhaled, heart hammering. He would not rush this. But it took every ounce of willpower to prove that conviction.