Page 27 of Charming the Headmistress (Spinsters and their Suitors #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

T he morning of Scholars’ Afternoon dawned bright and clear, sunlight lending a crisp glow to the landscape surrounding Haverton House.

Camden stood at the window of his study, staring out at the dew-laced hedgerows lining the lane.

The fire crackled softly behind him, but today, the comforting warmth of his library felt hollow compared to the anticipation rising in his chest.

It had been only days since his last visit to Greenbrook Academy, yet the pull toward it—and toward its poised headmistress—had not diminished.

He told himself, again and again, that this involvement was strictly for Helena’s benefit.

But deep down, he could no longer deny how persistently Miss Langford had come to occupy his thoughts.

Her quiet strength lingered with him: the calm assurance in her voice, the subtle furrow of her brow when she was deep in thought, and the luminous softening of her eyes when moved. He had seen a glimpse of that softness during their last conversation—and he found himself longing to see it again.

A knock on the door drew him back. Lord Kensington entered with his usual casual grace, casting a knowing look at the unopened letters littering Camden’s desk.

“No appetite for estate business this morning?” Kensington asked, one brow arched in clear amusement.

Camden adjusted the cuffs of his jacket. “I’m due at Greenbrook shortly. Today is Scholars’ Afternoon.”

“Ah,” Kensington said, leaning against the mantel with a smirk. “The grand exhibition of parental pride and subtle judgment. How fortunate Helena is to have a guardian who actually attends.”

Camden gave a tight smile. “She’s made remarkable progress. I want to be there to see it.”

Kensington tilted his head, eyes sharp. “Is it only Helena’s progress that draws you there, or does a certain headmistress contribute to your punctuality?”

Camden sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself. “Not this again.”

“Oh, come now,” Kensington drawled, grin widening. “You’ve visited more frequently than is strictly necessary, and I’ve known you long enough to recognize when a man is circling something he refuses to name.”

Camden crossed his arms, his voice cooling. “Miss Langford is Helena’s headmistress. My visits have been entirely proper.”

Kensington’s chuckle was low. “Proper, yes—but rumor rarely requires impropriety. Only attention and idle minds.”

Camden’s jaw tensed. He’d seen the glances on his last visit, the subtle hushes in hallways, the eyes that lingered too long. At first, he’d thought nothing of it. But now …

“You think it’s already begun,” Camden said quietly.

Kensington shrugged, expression uncharacteristically serious. “If it hasn’t, it will. And for her sake, you’d do well to be cautious.”

Camden exhaled slowly, recognizing the truth in his friend’s words. Eleanor Langford had built a reputation beyond reproach —one that could be quietly chipped away by nothing more than speculation.

“I’ll be careful,” Camden promised.

The carriage ride to Greenbrook was quiet but tense, filled only with the rhythmic clop of hooves and the soft creak of harness leather.

Camden watched the landscape roll by, but his thoughts remained fixed on what lay ahead: Helena’s performance, Miss Langford’ presence, and the possibility—impossible, and yet—that something deeper was unfolding.

He arrived just as families were gathering.

The courtyard was alive with chatter, the crisp air stirring the ribbons of girls in blue-and-white uniforms darting between adults.

Footmen opened carriage doors for mothers in embroidered pelisses and fathers in polished boots.

The soft rustle of silk and murmur of anticipation floated on the morning breeze.

As Camden stepped down, heads turned. A few parents offered polite nods; others whispered behind gloved hands. He lifted his chin, smoothed his coat, and entered the school with careful composure.

Inside, staff guided parents through sunlit halls.

Paintings by students adorned the walls, music drifted faintly from a distant room, and clusters of girls recited lines under the watchful eye of teachers.

Camden scanned the bustling corridors until his gaze fell on Miss Langford, glimpsed through a doorway—her voice low but confident as she offered reassurances to a fretful mother.

Her green gown hugged her figure in quiet elegance, the color bringing out the warmth of her hazel eyes.

There was nothing ostentatious about the dress, yet it suited her perfectly, reflecting her practical nature while still marking her as someone of quiet importance.

Camden felt a tug of admiration—and something more—as he watched her from a distance.

This was her world, her domain, and it was clear that Greenbrook thrived under her care.

He found himself fascinated by the way she commanded respect without ever raising her voice, the way she balanced the expectations of the parents with the needs of the girls.

He followed the other parents up the stairs. He found Helena in a classroom, standing beside her writing display, eyes scanning the door. When she spotted him, her face lit up.

“Uncle!” she called, motioning him over.

The tension eased from Camden’s shoulders. She looked proud—more sure of herself than he’d ever seen.

He moved to her side, eyes flicking over the neat lines of her writing. “You did all of this yourself?”

Helena blushed faintly. “Yes. Miss Langford helped me revise the ending. She said it needed more heart.”

“Did you add it?” he asked softly.

She smiled shyly. “I tried.”

He reached out, brushing her shoulder. “You did splendidly. I can see how hard you’ve worked.” Helena had come a long way since her arrival here. She still had moments of shyness, but there was a newfound confidence in her, a sense of belonging that hadn’t been there before.

Much of that, he knew, was due to Eleanor.

Before he could say more, two mothers nearby exchanged whispers, their eyes darting toward Camden.

“That’s the Marquess of Camden, is it not?” one asked in a hushed tone edged with intrigue.

“Yes,” the other replied, glancing Helena’s way. “He’s been coming quite often, I hear.”

Their tone was not unkind, but it carried a subtle suggestion Camden could not ignore. His jaw tightened, but he forced his gaze back to Helena, determined not to let them rattle him.

“Shall we see the music room next?” he offered, extending his arm. She nodded and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, and together they moved down the corridor.

The assembly hall was a jewel of Greenbrook: polished wood gleamed under the morning sun streaming through tall windows, while vases of fresh spring flowers filled the air with a soft, sweet scent.

Parents in their finest mingled along the rows of chairs, voices low with expectation as they watched their daughters prepare.

Girls in immaculate uniforms darted around the edges of the room, eyes bright, nerves thrumming.

Camden took in the sight, heart swelling at the sense of occasion—and pride.

His gaze found Miss Langford almost immediately.

She moved with quiet authority, greeting parents with serene warmth, adjusting a girl’s ribbon here, offering encouragement there.

She was the heart of the day’s success, every detail reflecting her unwavering dedication.

Even from across the room, Camden could see the weariness in her eyes—and the fierce pride beneath it.

When Miss Langford smiled, even briefly, it transformed her entire face—and Camden felt the tug in his chest intensify.

His eyes drifted to Helena, who sat near the front, twisting her hands in her lap. He moved to kneel beside her.

“You’re going to do brilliantly,” he murmured.

Her eyes flicked up, wide and anxious. “What if I forget everything?”

He squeezed her hands. “You won’t. And even if you do, I’ll be proud of you all the same.”

Her lips curved, tentative but real, and Camden’s heart lifted.

When it was Helena's turn to present, Camden’s attention sharpened.

She stood before the assembly, her posture straighter than he’d ever seen, her hands steady as she recited a passage from a history text.

Her voice, though soft, carried through the room with surprising clarity, and Camden couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride.

This was a different girl than the one he had first brought to Greenbrook—this was a young woman who had found her place.

As the applause rose around her, Helena's gaze briefly flicked to him, and when their eyes met, she gave him a small, tentative smile. Camden’s heart warmed. She was thriving here, and he knew, without question, that Eleanor had been instrumental in that transformation.

After the presentations, parents were invited to mingle with the teachers and students. Camden found Helena, who was standing near one of her classmates, Anna Bradbury. Both girls looked relieved, and Camden smiled as he approached them.

“You did wonderfully, Helena,” he said, his voice filled with pride. “I couldn’t be more proud.”

Helena blushed slightly but smiled up at him. “Thank you, Uncle. I—I was nervous, but Miss Langford helped me a lot.”

Camden glanced across the room, where Eleanor was speaking with a group of parents. “I can see that,” he said, his tone softening. “She’s done an incredible job.”

Before Helena could respond, Lord Kensington appeared at Camden’s side, wearing his usual smile. “I’ve just been speaking to a few of the parents,” he said, clapping Camden on the shoulder. “Seems your niece has made quite an impression.”

Camden nodded, though his attention was still half-focused on Eleanor. “She’s done well. Greenbrook has been good for her.”

Kensington followed Camden’s gaze and raised an eyebrow. “I take it Miss Langford has something to do with that?”