Page 39 of Charming the Headmistress (Spinsters and their Suitors #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

E leanor looked up from the parchment in her hands, her brow furrowed in disbelief. The document trembled slightly between her fingers as she scanned it again. The ink was fresh. And the signature—Weatherby’s bold, confident scrawl—stared back at her.

Lord Camden stood across from her, calm but alert, his hands loosely clasped behind his back.

She stared at him, astonished. “I do not understand. How did you get him to relinquish his hold on Greenbrook?”

Camden met her gaze evenly. He stepped closer, his eyes unwavering, his voice low but firm. “Let us say I reminded him what he stood to lose, and what he might yet gain by leaving Greenbrook in peace.”

“I cannot imagine what that took,” she said with awe. “It must have required a great deal of resources.”

He shook his head gently. “No. I didn’t have to resort to that. You have the documents now—to officially never have to worry about this problem again.”

Her knees threatened to give way, and she caught the edge of her desk for support, her breath caught in her throat. Her hands, still holding the paper, dropped to her sides as the weight of it all struck her.

And then, in one sudden motion, she crossed the room with tears springing to her eyes, emotion bubbling so quickly it felt as if her chest might burst, and threw her arms around him.

Camden stiffened, surprised—but only for a heartbeat. He folded her into his embrace, holding her against him as her breath shuddered out in a soft, quiet laugh.

“Thank you,” she whispered against his chest, her voice thick with emotion.

He tipped his head down, his lips brushing the curve of her hairline. “You’re welcome.”

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him, and in that moment—without a word more exchanged—he lowered his mouth to hers.

The kiss was gentle at first, reverent. Then deeper, drawn from months of shared tension, heartache, and slow-burning trust. Her hands rose to the lapels of his coat, and his hands found the small of her back. It was a kiss of promise. Of triumph. Of something new.

When they finally parted, her cheeks were flushed, her breath unsteady.

“You have no idea what this means,” she said again, her voice quieter now.

He brushed a stray curl from her cheek, his fingers lingering. “It was my honor. And it was never just about the land.”

Her eyes softened, shining with unshed tears. “I know.”

He gave her a small smile, then tucked a folded letter into her hand. “For the Board. From Weatherby. It’s official.”

She nodded, speechless. The mantel clock ticked in the quiet, each second a small miracle.

And for the first time since the ordeal had begun, her shoulders eased, her stance lifted. Greenbrook was safe. And the man that she was coming to care deeply for was by her side.

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the Greenbrook meeting room, casting golden light across the long oak table where the Board of Governors had gathered. Eleanor sat at the head, her back straight, her expression calm though her heart fluttered in her chest.

The letter from Mr. Weatherby—signed, sealed, and unequivocal—rested atop a leather folio before her. It felt like a talisman. A victory.

The board members took their seats one by one, exchanging pleasantries and cautious glances. Mr. Halberd, stern and always the first to question, cleared his throat. “Miss Langford, you called this meeting with urgency. I hope there is news.”

“There is,” Eleanor said, rising to her feet.

Her voice carried a calm authority that filled the room.

She gripped the edge of the table, willing her hands not to shake.

“I am pleased to report that the matter with Mr. Weatherby has been resolved. He has officially relinquished all claims to the land upon which Greenbrook Academy sits.”

A ripple of murmurs swept through the room. Mr. Litchfield blinked in astonishment. Mrs. Brambleton clutched her shawl, her mouth forming a round ‘O’ of surprise.

“How?” Halberd demanded. “He was tenacious, and his legal position—while not ironclad—was troubling.”

Eleanor lifted the letter and held it aloft. In that instant, she felt every late night and sleepless hour vindicated, and she had one person to thank for all of it. “This document states his formal withdrawal. It is signed and witnessed. There will be no further dispute.”

There was a beat of silence, and then a smattering of applause from a few board members.

“Did he receive compensation?” someone asked. “What changed his mind?”

“I cannot speak to Mr. Weatherby’s motivations,” Eleanor replied carefully, though her mind drifted to Lord Camden. “But I assure you, no school funds were used. Greenbrook remains fully in possession of the land and its independence.”

Halberd narrowed his eyes, but said nothing more.

Mrs. Brambleton leaned forward with a smile. “Then we are to proceed with the next term uninterrupted?”

“With confidence,” Eleanor said. “Our future is secure.”

The meeting continued with brief updates on enrollment and renovations, but the mood had shifted—lighter, more optimistic.

Eleanor remained composed, answering questions and guiding discussion, but inwardly, she felt something lifting within her.

The weight she had carried for weeks had finally eased.

After the meeting, as the governors filed out with polite bows and good wishes, Mrs. Carter stepped into the room. Her face was unreadable.

“Well?” Eleanor asked, a hint of uncertainty returning.

“They’re impressed,” Mrs. Carter said with a nod. “Even Halberd, though he’ll never admit it.”

Eleanor exhaled slowly, her hands settling on the back of the chair for support. “Good.”

Mrs. Carter studied her closely. “And, how are you?”

Eleanor’s eyes drifted toward the window. “Relieved. Grateful. And …” she hesitated, then added softly, “A little changed.”

Mrs. Carter’s lips curved. “You’ve been through a great deal.”

“Yes. But I’ve also learned what it is to trust someone completely.”

Mrs. Carter tilted her head. “You mean the Marquess.”

Eleanor’s throat tightened, but she lifted her chin, unafraid of being bold after the courage he had shown. “Yes, I mean Lord Camden. He saw what needed to be done. And he did it.”

Later that evening, Eleanor sat alone in her office, the soft candlelight flickering over the polished surface of her desk. She reread the letter one last time, then folded it carefully and placed it in her drawer.

Greenbrook was safe.

But her thoughts weren’t only of the school. They lingered, instead, on a man who had kissed her and given her back her future. But most importantly, he was the man who had stolen her heart.