Page 29 of Charming the Headmistress (Spinsters and their Suitors #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

E leanor stood near the front garden as the girls clustered around her, their chatter bright in the clear morning air.

Birdsong drifted from the budding trees, and the warmth of spring touched every stone and leaf, making the world feel fresh and alive.

The girls’ laughter echoed across the gravel path as they relived yesterday’s triumphs—Anna Bradbury retold the praise she’d received for remembering every line of her recitation, Helena beamed as she described the way her uncle smiled when she finished speaking, and a group of girls laughed as they celebrated how well it had all gone.

Eleanor’s heart lifted at the sight. Scholars’ Afternoon had been everything she hoped: a moment of pride, proof that the girls were learning and growing, that Greenbrook’s mission was thriving. Even now, their faces glowed with the confidence of accomplishment.

She let herself savor it—the girls’ bright eyes, their eager chatter, the pride that shimmered in every step.

This was what she worked for: their confidence, their joy.

She refused to let yesterday’s gossip steal even a minute of this hard-won triumph, and she pushed away the intrusive thoughts that she would have to cope with later today.

For now, she enjoyed the way the girls talked with animation about their performances.

In her mind, she relived the successes of each girl in turn.

Anna Bradbury’s recitation was flawless despite her nerves, and Helena’s reading had drawn proud tears from more than one parent.

Eleanor’s heart had swelled with pride as she watched the girls stand tall, proof of what Greenbrook offered—more than lessons, a chance to become who they were meant to be.

The day before had been a success. The girls had performed beautifully.

The parents had applauded, smiled, and offered congratulations.

Helena Moreland had spoken with poise and confidence. And Lord Camden—

Eleanor exhaled sharply at the memory.

Lord Camden had watched Helena with quiet pride.

Her pulse sped up at the memory of the way his gaze had found her across the crowded hall, lingering with an intensity that still left her breathless.

She had felt his eyes on her more than once.

Not with scrutiny, but with a kind of searching warmth that made her pulse stutter.

It had been difficult enough to remain composed when they spoke after the event, when he thanked her with quiet sincerity that lingered in her mind even now.

Her conversation with Lord Camden afterward had been brief, careful, polite; yet she had longed for more.

She had wanted to thank him properly—for believing in Helena and for every small kindness he had shown.

He had been a support to her during her illness and had eased her burdens.

But finding those words of gratitude in a crowded room had been nearly impossible.

The girls drifted back indoors for their lessons, the garden quieted, leaving Eleanor alone with the soft rustle of the morning breeze and her own thoughts. She lingered for a moment longer, breathing in the fresh scent of earth and budding leaves, before returning inside.

But each step into the quiet hallways pulled her further from that joy. The unpleasant memories resurfaced again, demanding attention. The whispers. The hushed accusations. She breathed out heavily.

Her footsteps echoed through the corridor, each one pulling her further from the warmth of the morning and back into the weight of reality.

As she passed the high windows, the memories of yesterday’s success warred with the shadows of overheard words—snatches of gossip that had reached her through her staff after the parents had gone.

Comments about her closeness with Lord Camden, about the frequency of his visits, and whispered suggestions that her interest in him was more than professional.

She had only heard some of the whispers:

“He’s very attentive to the headmistress, don’t you think?”

“Too attentive. I wonder how often he truly comes to see his niece.”

“Some women know how to keep a man’s interest—especially those in authority.”

Though she had been grateful not to hear all the accusations in the bright moments of Scholars’ Afternoon, they rang louder now in the quiet. With each step deeper into Greenbrook’s halls, the whispers returned in full force—insidious and impossible to ignore.

Not all of their words were overtly cruel, but they sliced with precision nonetheless.

Eleanor had overheard enough in her life to know when speculation turned to suspicion.

She had ignored it, smiled, nodded, made her excuses.

Her staff had been kind in the way they presented the information to her, and she took it in stride without showing emotion.

But last night in the privacy of her chambers, her composure had cracked.

She had sat at her writing desk long after midnight, staring at the unlit candle, the cold grate, wondering if she had allowed herself to be too open. Too visible.

Such gossip could ripple beyond her own reputation—it could tarnish the school in countless ways. Parents might question Greenbrook’s respectability, or whether sending their daughters here would invite scandal.

Those feelings and insecurities rushed into her again as she stepped into her office.

If her reputation became tarnished, it could affect the girls in her care.

Rumors of an ill-reputed headmistress could lead parents to withdraw their daughters, undoing everything she had built.

No parent would wish for gossip to follow their girls with scandal.

Her girls’ futures depended on her reputation staying spotless.

The girls were her priority. The school was her responsibility.

Lord Camden had paid her attention, but they did not have an understanding.

He had not given her any reason to hope that there would be a match between them.

Though her heart leapt when she saw him, that did not mean that he was going to make her an offer.

She picked up the two books that held an honored place on her desk.

But now, each felt heavier, tainted by the uncertainty clawing at her chest. Was she as silly as a school girl to think that such things meant undying affection?

She closed her eyes, trying to think. Could there be a way that she had been seeing their growing …

friendship—for she could not truly call it more than that—wrong?

He was everything polite and poised, but she did not have the privilege of seeing him in society with others. Perhaps he was just as kind and generous to all that he associated with.

The gothic novel was a thoughtful gift—one that was tailored to her likes.

But, it was also the genre that he particularly didn’t like.

She remembered his playful teasing about her fondness for dark tales, and wondered now if the book was merely a jest, not a token of regard.

She had been enamored with the condition of the first edition.

It was a treasure. But to a marquess who had newly inherited a library full of books, it could simply be his way to repurpose what he did not want.

She wrapped her arms around her middle, an ache filling her. Were these new thoughts closer to the truth than she wanted to believe?

She didn’t doubt his sincerity or his kindness.

But had she read too much into them? Could the rumors and gossip have their roots in truth?

She didn’t expect anything from him. She couldn’t.

But week after week, she’d looked forward to seeing him.

She’d anticipated their conversations, their time together. Had she been fooling herself all along?

So many thoughts swam through her head, muddling her mind until she was disoriented, not knowing which way was up or down.

It was a complicated situation. She could not really be so forward and bold as to ask Lord Camden what his intentions were toward her.

After all, their interactions had been based around his ward and niece, Helena.

It would be so presumptuous to believe that she could even ask such questions.

She couldn’t. Her pride wouldn’t allow it.

She had to think of her students and how her own reputation would affect them.

She would not be so careless as to pursue such a direction.

The fact that she had not considered it until now was a flaw in her logic.

How had her brain not realized it? Her heart could not be her driving factor.

She had her responsibilities. And she knew her place in society and at Greenbrook Academy.

And one thing was now clearer than ever. She could not let her heart cloud her judgment any longer. Lord Camden was a complication she could not afford.