Bad Brides Read Free Page B

return, flicked her glossy, perfectly blow-dried hair from one shoulder to the other, and said:
    ‘Oh, I couldn’t tell you. Mom and I have so many pretty things.’
    Foiled, Minty had sneered again, tossed her own hair – the British society girls were all proud of their hair, though Brianna Jade’s was lusher than any of theirs – and slinked
away. Brianna Jade had heard that Minty had nicknamed her BJ, but that was water off Brianna Jade’s back, rain off her bouncing, lacquered, hairsprayed locks. It sure wasn’t the first
time she’d been teased about that. Tamra had apologized years ago for not realizing the consequences of naming her daughter after Brianna Jade’s dead father – Brian
Schladdenhouffer, who had done the decent thing and proposed when Tamra got knocked up, only to die in a combine-harvester accident before he could either get married or see his daughter born
– and after the stone in the engagement ring, a jade he’d given Tamra till he could afford a Kay’s diamond from the local mall. (‘Every kiss begins with Kay!’)
    Tamra had suggested that Brianna Jade change her name: Brianna Jade had promptly burst into tears, said that she wouldn’t dream of it, that her name had not one, but two lovely references
to her dad, and that her mom should never raise the idea again. Being called BJ really wasn’t such a big deal, she had insisted bravely. Tamra had burst into tears as well, and they’d
hugged and cried for a long time before deciding to hitch into Kewanee and go spend some money they didn’t really have on Bananas Foster ice-cream sundaes at Carvel, their favourite
treat.
    And look at me now! I’m going to be Brianna Jade, Countess of Respers, with the Honourable Araminta and her friends dancing at my wedding!
    An ecstatic smile spread over Brianna Jade’s face at the prospect of their sour expressions as they saw her walking up the aisle of the Respers family chapel in a couture gown, her train a
mile long, her diamonds sparkling and her head held high and triumphant. Edmund walked into the morning room to see her big hazel eyes wide, her glossed lips curving ecstatically, her
strawberry-blonde hair tumbling around her face, and her cheeks pink with sheer pleasure at her imminent engagement: she looked so stunning that he almost dropped to one knee there and then.
    ‘You look like a Sienese icon,’ he blurted out, unable to take his eyes off her.
    ‘I do?’ Brianna Jade directed the full wattage of her smile at him. ‘That’s a good thing, right?’
    Brianna Jade was quite unfazed by her lack of cultural knowledge. Rich, upper-crust people didn’t talk about opera or ballet or paintings, not back in Florida and not here in Britain
either. When she and Tamra were invited to the Royal Opera House, no one in the private box they sat in would ever say a word about the singing or dancing: they just gossiped about whose husband
was looking to upgrade to a trophy wife, or whose wife was taking ‘extra sessions’ with her personal trainer. She’d worked out long ago that, for these people, culture was either
an excuse to dress up, go out and spend money, or a stick to beat the peasants with because they didn’t know about . . . well, that Siamese icon thing Edmund had just mentioned.
    Her eyes softened even more sweetly as she gazed at him. He’d meant to be nice, and now he was going to explain to her what he’d been talking about. Plus, it was sweet of him to
assume that she
might
know what the Siamese thing was . . .
    ‘Icons are paintings of saints,’ Edmund said. ‘Mostly done on a gold background, because they were so special – they were supposed to be worshipped. The ones from the
Siena School are all pale-skinned like you, with hazel eyes and blonde curls. I’ll find some to show you.’
    ‘I’d love to see them,’ Brianna Jade said politely.
    ‘So, um, anyway—’ Edmund had planned out where he thought the proposal should take place – ‘I