Read Online An Eligible Bachelor by Veronica Henry - Free Book Online Page A

slow start, Twig was now doing phenomenally, even though it was well knownthat it was Millie Cooper who had all the talent, a young girl she’d scooped up from the nearby college who was bursting with flair and imagination. Fleur just did all the deals, all the talking, while Millie sat in a freezing cold room at the back of the shop, hidden from view, creating wonderful bouquets and arrangements that ranged from the exotic to the fantastic. Honor imagined Fleur wafting about, poking the odd gerbera into place and taking all the credit, and couldn’t help feeling it was unfair. But then Millie would never be able to afford to set up on her own. The overheads in Eldenbury were extortionate. She didn’t have the contacts, the social connections. One day, Honor comforted herself, Millie would shoot to fame after being discovered on daytime television and would become the next Paula Pryke. Honor was a firm believer in fairy-tale endings.
    She sidled up to the school gates, conscious that she looked less than glamorous in her duffel coat and wellies. Fleur was in faded jeans, a pristine white T-shirt with the Twig logo, and a cream mac, her razored bob perfectly in place and her matt lipstick freshly applied. She always managed to look crisp and chic, even though one would have thought the work of a florist was necessarily grubby.
    Fleur gave Honor a tight smile, an insincere ‘hi’, and didn’t even bestow an appraising glance on her outfit – Honor was clearly no competition. The mothers at St Joseph’s were on the whole a sensible lot – jeans and muddy estates were pretty much the order of the day – but there was a small contingent who arrived in their convertibles fully made up and dressed to the nines. And Fleur liked to think of herself as leader of this pack,setting trends, dictating by example what should be worn, what car should be driven, what diet should be followed and what exercise regime adhered to. She repeatedly boasted that she was a size six, so tiny she had to shop in Gap Kids for her jeans. Not her tops, though, because on top she was a 36DD. She didn’t mind telling anyone that she’d got her tits for her thirty-fifth birthday. Honor was desperate to ask her which birthday she’d had her nose for, because no one was born with a tiny little retroussé button that tilted up slightly at the end. But Fleur wasn’t yet admitting to facial surgery.
    Honor and Henty’s friendship had been cemented by an intense hatred of Fleur.
    ‘She shouldn’t stand too close to fire,’ murmured Henty, ‘Or she might melt.’
    Honor and Fleur waited in awkward silence until a bigger crowd had accrued outside the gates and the atmosphere became more relaxed. It was only when Fleur was happy that she had a large and appreciative audience that she dropped her bombshell.
    ‘Guess what? I delivered a bouquet up to the manor this morning. It seems congratulations are in order.’
    Everyone looked at her, waiting for the revelation.
    ‘Guy and Richenda.’ Fleur held up her ring finger and rubbed it. ‘Wedding bells…’ she hinted, and waited for the reaction. There were gasps of amazement.
    ‘Seriously?’
    ‘Wow!’
    ‘Oh my God!’
    Honor frowned.
    ‘Don’t florists have a Hippocratic oath?’
    Fleur looked at Honor blankly.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Shouldn’t you keep your clients’ details a secret? Like doctors? I mean, if people know you’re going to blab, they’re hardly going to order a bunch of flowers to send to a secret lover. Are they?’
    There was a shocked silence. Fleur smiled frostily.
    ‘I imagine, as the flowers were sent from the Daily Post , that it will be common knowledge soon enough. But thank you for your concern.’
    She turned her back pointedly.
    ‘Now. Only three days to go, girls. Have you all got your outfits?’ This said with the smugness of one with a white silk Armani frock hanging in the wardrobe.
    The crowd of mothers closed in around Fleur, managing to exclude both Honor