Читать книгу Wish Upon a Wedding - Kate Hardy, Jessica Gilmore - Страница 22

EPILOGUE

Two months later

CLAIRE WAS WORKING on the preliminary sketches for her first collection for Pia Verdi when her phone beeped.

She glanced at the screen. Sean. Probably telling her that he was going to be late home tonight, she thought with a smile. Although they hadn’t officially moved in with each other, they’d fallen into a routine of spending weeknights at her place and weekends at his.

V and A. Thirty minutes. Be there.

Was he kidding?

Three tube changes! Takes thirty minutes PLUS walk to station, she typed back.

And of course he’d know she knew this. The Victoria and Albert Museum was her favourite place in London. She’d taken him there several times and always lingered in front of her favourite dress, a red grosgrain and chiffon dress by Chanel. She never, ever tired of seeing that dress.

Forty minutes, then.

Half a minute later, there was another text.

Make it fifty and change into your blue dress. The one with the daisies.

Why?

Tell you when you get here.

She grinned. Sean was clearly in playful mode, so this could be fun. But why did he want to meet her at the museum? And why that dress in particular?

She still didn’t have a clue when she actually got to Kensington. She texted him from the museum entrance: Where are you?

Right next to your favourite exhibit.

Easy enough, she thought, and went to find him.

He was standing next to the display case, dressed up to the nines: a beautifully cut dark suit and a white shirt, but for once he wasn’t wearing a tie. That little detail was enough to soften the whole package. Just how she liked it.

‘OK. I’m here.’ She gestured to her outfit. ‘Blue dress. Daisies. As requested, Mr Farrell.’

‘You look beautiful,’ he said.

‘Thank you. But I’m still trying to work out why you wanted to meet me here.’

‘Because I’m just about to add to your workload.’

She frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

He dropped to one knee. ‘Claire Stewart, I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me?’

‘I...’ She stared at him. ‘Sean. I can’t quite take this in. You’re really asking me to marry you?’

‘I’m down on one knee and I used the proper form,’ he pointed out.

This was the last thing she’d expected on a Thursday afternoon in her favourite museum. ‘Sean.’

‘I’ve been thinking about it for the last month. Where else could you ask a wedding dress designer to marry you, except in her favourite place in London? And next to her favourite exhibit, too?’

Now she knew why he’d asked her to wear his favourite dress: to make this just as special for him. And why he’d said he was adding to her workload—because now she’d have a very special wedding dress to design. Her own.

She smiled. ‘Sean Farrell, I love you with all my heart, too. And I’d be thrilled to marry you.’

He stood up, swung her round, and kissed her thoroughly. Then he took something from his pocket. ‘We need to formalise this.’

She blinked. ‘You bought me a ring?’

‘Without consulting you? No chance. This is temporary. Go with the flow. Carpe diem,’ he said, and slid something onto the ring finger of her left hand.

When she looked at it, she burst out laughing. He’d made her a ring out of unused toffee wrappers.

‘We’ll choose the proper one together,’ he said. ‘Just as we’ll make all our important decisions together.’

‘An equal partnership,’ she said, and kissed him. ‘Perfect.’

* * * * *

Read on for an extract from THE MILLIONAIRE AND THE MAID by Michelle Douglas.