Page 25 of Charming the Headmistress (Spinsters and their Suitors #3)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
E leanor looked around her office. It had only been a few days since she’d been confined to her bed, but she’d found that she’d missed being involved during her illness. She was grateful she felt well enough to return to most of her duties, especially today.
It had been nearly two months since Helena Moreland first arrived at Greenbrook Academy.
The adjustment had been gradual, marked by cautious steps forward and the occasional hesitating glance.
But in that time, she had begun to settle—her posture more poised, her replies more forthcoming, her silent defiance to engage melted into a watchful kind of curiosity.
For Eleanor, it had been weeks of observing, guiding, and—more unexpectedly than she cared to admit—anticipating the Marquess of Camden’s visits.
Eleanor paced her office, a rare restlessness unsettling her normally composed demeanor.
Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, glinting off the neat stacks of correspondence on her desk—and catching the slim midnight-blue poetry volume resting atop the gothic novel Lord Camden had gifted her.
She had read both in the quiet hours of her recovery, but it was the gentle cadence of the poetry that had soothed her fevered mind most of all.
That surprising comfort lingered in her chest even now.
The clock chimed softly, marking the hour, and Eleanor smoothed her skirts just as Mrs. Carter knocked and opened the door. “Lord Camden has arrived, Miss Langford.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Thank you, Mrs. Carter. Please show him in.”
Moments later, Lord Camden stepped through the doorway, his presence filling the room more than Eleanor cared to admit. His eyes immediately found hers—soft, searching—and a warmth unfurled in her chest at the sight of him.
“Good morning, Miss Langford,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, tinged with concern.
“Lord Camden,” she replied, trying to keep her tone even, though her heart fluttered wildly. “You are very welcome.”
There was a moment of silence that hovered between them—full of unspoken thoughts—before Lord Camden stepped closer, his brow furrowing. “You look well, but I must ask: how are you truly feeling?”
The earnestness in his gaze made her throat tighten. She managed a small smile. “I am much improved, my lord. I am sorry you had to endure my absence during your last visit.”
He shook his head, his eyes dark with quiet remorse. “You owe me no apologies. If anything, it is I who must apologize. I fear I was the cause—I should have seen to you coming straight back to Greenbrook Academy when you’d already been soaked through from the rain. Had I insisted—”
“Please,” Eleanor interjected softly, reaching for composure.
“You were more help than you know—offering your carriage, helping me over those puddles.” A heated flush swept across her cheeks as the memory came unbidden: his strong arms around her waist, lifting her easily as though she were no heavier than a feather, the thunder of her heart at the feel of him so close.
“I do not hold you responsible,” she finished quietly.
His eyes caught hers, lingering, and she felt as if the room had drawn a breath. “I confess I worried for you,” he admitted, voice low. “I found myself unsettled, not knowing how you fared.”
“I am returning to my strength, as you can see.”
He nodded. “You are beautiful.”
Eleanor’s pulse leapt. She dropped her gaze, but the warmth in her chest only deepened.
Her eyes fell on the poetry book resting on her desk.
She dared a light-hearted tone to ease the charged moment.
“Your poetry was a balm. I never thought I would say this, but it was more soothing than my gothic novel in those long, feverish nights.”
His lips curved into a slow, teasing smile. “So you’ve finally seen the virtues of poetry.”
She lifted her chin, arching a brow. “Only because I was sick. Otherwise I’d still prefer my haunted castles.”
“I shall cling to the hope you might be swayed,” he murmured, a playful spark lighting his eyes.
A soft laugh broke from her lips despite herself, the sound quiet but unguarded. They were still laughing together when a knock interrupted them.
Mrs. Carter opened the door, ushering in Helena. The girl smiled openly at her uncle, a transformation from her initial wariness that made Eleanor’s heart lift.
“Uncle,” Helena greeted brightly, hurrying to take the seat opposite him.
“Helena,” Lord Camden replied with a warmth that softened his entire bearing. He reached out to tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “Which lesson did you come from?”
Helena’s eyes darted to Eleanor for the briefest second, then back to her uncle. “Art. We were painting today. Miss Bellamy says my apples looked like pears, but I’m improving.”
Lord Camden chuckled. “I believe your mother struggled similarly with her still-life sketches.”
“Did she?” Helena asked, eyes alight.
“She certainly did. Though she was much better at landscapes,” he said, voice fond with memory.
“I love landscapes,” Helena said.
Lord Camden smiled. “I know.”
Eleanor, seated nearby with her quill poised above her correspondence, let her attention drift.
Seeing them like this—Helena leaning in with a shy eagerness, Lord Camden’s eyes kind and attentive—made something ache sweetly in her chest. It wasn’t just that Helena was thriving; it was how Lord Camden encouraged her, how he saw her.
“If you have a few moments to spare, Miss Langford, would you join us?” Lord Camden asked, motioning to the tea that had been set at the same table by the window.
Her pulse thrummed at the invitation. “Very well, Lord Camden.” Her voice felt breathy to her own ears.
He stood, waiting for her to take her seat before he took his.
Helena poured the tea carefully for everyone, and Lord Camden held a wrapped package from the bakery for her and Eleanor.
“You are always so thoughtful. Thank you, Lord Camden,” she said, taking the wrapped sweet from him.
“It was the least I could do,” he said. “For your continued recovery.”
Eleanor’s cheeks heated. He had been so kind to her, and gratitude filled her again for his consideration to her when it wasn’t strictly necessary.
Helena glanced to Eleanor. “Miss Langford returned to teaching today. She gave us a history lesson on Queen Elizabeth. It was fascinating.”
Lord Camden’s eyebrows rose, and he looked at Eleanor. “Back to teaching already?”
Eleanor smiled. “I am not a wilting daisy, Lord Camden.”
“Perish the thought that I ever suggested otherwise, Miss Langford,” Lord Camden said, smiling wider. He turned to his niece. “How is Miss Langford at teaching?”
“I always enjoy her lessons,” Helena said openly. “And I learn so much from her. I didn’t know how much Queen Elizabeth ruled without relying on anyone else.”
Eleanor stilled her hand, curiosity drawing her gaze up.
Lord Camden leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “Queen Elizabeth was certainly an impressive figure. What did you learn particularly?”
Helena brightened. “Miss Langford told us Elizabeth refused to marry, even though everyone expected her to. She said Elizabeth believed if she married, her husband would rule instead of her, and England might suffer.”
Eleanor’s chest swelled with quiet pride. Helena had not just listened—she had understood.
Lord Camden’s eyes softened. “She certainly made a strong choice.”
“Miss Langford said Elizabeth wasn’t afraid to be alone if it meant doing the right thing,” Helena continued earnestly. “She ruled with her head, not just her heart.”
Eleanor felt a quiet ache at hearing her own words repeated. Helena had grown so much.
“Do you think that’s admirable?” Lord Camden asked.
Helena’s chin lifted a fraction. “Yes. It must have been hard, but she did what she felt was best for her kingdom. It must have been lonely, but she didn’t let that stop her.”
Eleanor’s heart gave a quiet ache. She knew that feeling all too well—the burden of doing what was right, even at the cost of companionship.
Lord Camden’s gaze flicked to Eleanor’s, his eyes warm. “Strong people often carry burdens others don’t see,” he said gently. “But it doesn’t mean they’re truly alone. They can have people they trust.”
Helena considered that, then nodded with a small, satisfied smile. “I think I understand her better now.”
A knock interrupted the quiet moment. Mrs. Carter stepped in with her usual composed air. “Miss Langford, I’m sorry to intrude, but a group of parents has arrived unannounced. They’re hoping for a short tour.”
Eleanor’s shoulders straightened despite the flutter in her chest. She glanced at Helena and Lord Camden, still seated comfortably over their tea, and felt the pull of wishing she could stay where she was. But duty was calling her.
“Of course. Thank you, Mrs. Carter. Please let them know I shall come presently.” She rose smoothly, aware of Lord Camden standing as well. A tingling awareness rushed to her throat at the warmth of his gaze.
He bowed to her. “I’m pleased to see that you are feeling better,” he said.
“Thank you, Lord Camden.” Eleanor turned to Helena. “I will see you in the library after your next lesson with Miss Rawlie.”
Helena nodded. “Yes, Miss Langford.”
Eleanor stepped into the corridor, steadying herself for the waiting parents. Yet as she moved down the hall, she couldn’t shake the lingering warmth of Lord Camden’s eyes on her, or the way his gentle words had left her heart both light and achingly full.
She had not gone far when she encountered Miss Smith leading a small group of mothers down the hall. They were mid-tour, offering polite commentary on the school’s orderly atmosphere. But as Eleanor approached, she caught the name “Camden” spoken in a slightly breathless hush.
“Was that the Marquess’s carriage outside?” one of the mothers asked, her voice pitched with delicate curiosity.