Page 33 of Charming the Headmistress (Spinsters and their Suitors #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

T he morning after Lord Camden’s visit dawned gray and unsettled, the wind carrying a sharpness that hinted at rain.

Eleanor sat at her desk, a stack of correspondence before her, her hand resting on the pile of the girls’ carefully written essays, but she could not bring herself to pick one up.

The ink blotched against the pristine parchment, a quiet betrayal of her usual precision.

She could not focus.

Lord Camden’s words echoed still.

“I care for you deeply, Eleanor.”

They had been spoken with such clarity, such quiet conviction, that it had taken every ounce of discipline not to waver. Eleanor had heard many things in her years—praise, criticism, admiration—but rarely had a declaration left her so utterly unmoored.

She had not said yes. But neither had she shut the door.

Her hand moved to the edge of the desk, fingers brushing the wooden surface as though to steady herself. Lord Camden’s visit had not brought solutions, but it had brought something else—something dangerous. Hope.

A knock interrupted her thoughts. Mrs. Carter stepped in with her usual briskness, though her expression was unusually tight.

“I thought you ought to see this immediately,” she said, handing over a sealed letter.

Eleanor opened it and read quickly. Then again, slower. Her spine straightened. “Mrs. Belmont is withdrawing her daughter.”

Mrs. Carter nodded grimly. “Does she state her reasons for this change? She is one of our most loyal families.”

Eleanor felt the words land like stones in her chest. “She cites ‘concerns over the school’s security’ and alludes to ‘personal impropriety’ between myself and Lord Camden.”

“I don’t believe many will follow her lead,” Mrs. Carter added, more gently. “But the gossip has taken hold, and we must prepare for others to question Greenbrook’s stability.”

Eleanor folded the letter with care, as though precision might keep her temper at bay. “Thank you, Mrs. Carter.”

Mrs. Carter hesitated near the desk, eyes lingering on Eleanor’s pale face. “Miss Langford, I wish you would lean on me more.”

When the door closed, she allowed herself a single breath of fury. So this was the cost. Not the truth of her character, but the appearance of intimacy.

She glanced at the window. The sky had grown darker.

As if summoned by the weight of the day, another knock came—this time, the errand boy with a new letter. She took it and recognized the seal immediately: the Board of Governors.

She broke it open, read the contents, and closed her eyes.

They had called an emergency meeting for the following week.

A formal review.

No matter how tactfully it was worded, the implication was clear. Her leadership was in question.

She sat back in her chair, hands folded tightly in her lap. She had less than three months to resolve the land dispute, to save the school, to prove her competence—and now, her integrity.

Another knock.

“Miss Langford?”

Helena lingered in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot. The voice was soft, hesitant. Eleanor looked up to see Helena standing there, a small yellow flower pinched between her fingers.

“I found this near the hedge,” the girl said. “You looked like you needed something cheerful.”

Emotion swept up so quickly that Eleanor nearly faltered. She stood and accepted the flower as though it were a crown.

“Thank you, Miss Moreland. It’s lovely.”

Helena hovered for a moment. “Will my uncle be returning soon?”

Eleanor hesitated, then smiled gently. “I believe so. He’s quite invested in your progress, you know.”

Helena brightened. “I’m glad.”

Eleanor placed the flower in a small glass vase on her desk. “You may go now. Thank you again.”

Helena offered a shy curtsy and disappeared into the hall.

When the door closed, Eleanor sat again and stared at the flower.

So simple, so unguarded. It reminded her not just of the girls’ trust, but of why she had founded this school—why she had fought for every lesson, every chance to see them stand proud.

She enjoyed being someone who could help shape others the way she had been shaped.

It was a way she could give back for the blessings she had received.

Her name and her reputation were fragile things in the hands of the wrong people, capable of tearing Greenbrook’s future apart.

And why she could not afford to fall apart now.

That evening, after the girls were in their dormitories and the school was quiet, Eleanor slipped outside and walked the perimeter of Greenbrook. The wind had calmed, but the chill remained, brushing her cheeks as she pulled her cloak tighter.

The stone walls stood strong in the twilight, but her future here was anything but.

She thought of the Board. Of Mrs. Belmont. Of the whispered rumors that circled like vultures. She thought of every girl who had come here frightened and left stronger.

She would not let idle whispers decide the fate of those she was charged to protect.

And yet she walked.

Because she had not given up.

Not yet.

Lord Camden’s offer lingered in her mind. Not his romantic one, though that too stirred something deep and dangerous. But his promise to fight. To help. To stand beside her, not because she needed rescue—but because she had earned respect.

That meant something.

It meant everything.

She reached the front steps and paused there, hand resting on the rail.

If Greenbrook was to fall, she would not let it crumble in silence. She would stand, speak, fight—and if necessary, fall with dignity.

But she would not surrender.

Not today.

Not ever.