“Are you kidding?” she said. “I’m getting the good end of the deal. A great car and an empty house.”
“It’s not entirely empty.”
“Are you going to show me?”
“In a minute.” He stood up and pulled her up to her feet. “After I’ve said hello.”
It was indeed several minutes later that she was walking into his front door with him, his ring on her finger, and his arm around her shoulders. Once they were inside, she turned and put her arms around him.
“Still looks pretty empty to me.”
“You haven’t looked over the fireplace.” He tilted his head in that direction. “Go have a look.”
She hesitated, then released him and walked into the other room. She stopped in front of the fireplace and stared at what was hanging over the mantel.
The picture she had given him.
She looked up at him as he came to stand next to her. “I thought Gavin sold this.”
“He did. To Cameron, as it happens.”
She smiled. “And he gave it to you?”
“Housewarming gift.”
“Very generous.”
“He wants you to do something for him.”
She felt a little faint. “Can life improve?”
He clasped his hands behind his back. “That depends on what you think of maybe spending a fortnight or two at Stratford starting later this month.”
She blinked, then felt her mouth fall open. “I don’t know. Do I get good seats?”
He smiled uneasily. “You tell me where you want to sit and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Are you going to give me details?”
He shook his head. “I thought I would just turn you loose with your sketchbook. You should see Anne Hathaway’s house. Not to be missed.”
“You said that before.”
“You didn’t get to go look.”
“What are you doing at Stratford?”
He took a deep breath. “A brief run of Hamlet.”
She laughed and threw her arms around his neck. She hugged him tightly, then pulled back and looked at him. “Who’s directing?”
“Edmund Cooke.”
“Finally,” she said. She considered then looked at him. “Are you happy about this?”
He shrugged. “I’ve worked for worse.” He smiled down at her. “You should ask me about the cast.”
“Should I?”
“Claudius is an actor of particularly important stature.”
She fought her smile. “You’re not going to tell me that Sir Richard Drummond is making an appearance.”
“He has volunteered to play the ghost,” Derrick admitted, “when last he visited me in the flat in London. But nay, it isn’t him.”
She considered, then felt her mouth fall open. “My father?”
He nodded.
“You’re kidding.”
“I never kid about future fathers-in-law.”
She pulled away, walked around the room, then came to a stop in front of him. “Wow.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at her carefully. “Why wow?”
“Wow because my father just gave up Hamlet and settled for Claudius,” she said. “I don’t think he would have done that for Sir Laurence himself.”
He didn’t move. “And is that a good thing as far as you’re concerned?”
She walked over to him and put her arms around his waist. She waited until she felt his arms come around her before she leaned up and kissed him.
“Personally, I couldn’t care less,” she murmured against his mouth. “I love you because you’re just Derrick William Cameron—”
“Who told you my middle name?” he interrupted, smiling.
“The guy who schlepped my luggage inside that delightful bed-and-breakfast on Day Two of the great journey north. He thought I should know.”
Derrick smiled. “I think you have a tale or two to tell, but I want to hear more about the other first. You were saying that you loved me . . .”
“Yes, not that I’ve heard the same from y—”
And that was as far as she got for a bit. She wasn’t sure if he was rewarding her for not caring that her father had not only agreed to be in a play with him but had exerted absolutely no influence on the selection of Hamlet himself—which she was sure Derrick would appreciate later—or if he had missed her, or if he just loved her.
“I missed you,” he said simply. “And I love you.”
She looked at him blearily. “Was I talking out loud?”
He laughed a little. “You were distracted.”
“You have that effect on me.”
He pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her, and held her tightly.
“Marry me,” he whispered against her ear. “Please.”
“Yes. When?”
“You decide.”
“After Hamlet,” she said without hesitation. “I don’t want to be distracted by you while I’m watching you.”
“When I figure out what that means, I’m sure I’ll agree,” he said dryly. “Your aunt Mary left you a wedding dress back at the keep.”