The Bolingbroke Chit by Lynn Messina

Author:Lynn Messina
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2015-05-28T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Although Viscount Addleson did not frequently decide to drop family members, as he had so few of them whom he liked, he realized as Edward Abingdon stopped his curricle in front of the British Horticultural Society that he had no choice but to ruthlessly remove his cousin from his life.

“I have nothing but respect for your passion for horticulture, as I believe it’s important for a young gentleman to care strongly for something as a blind against cynicism. Look at me, I have given my life over to the pursuit of the perfect waistcoat and I assure you it has not been in vain, for every day I grow a little bit closer to attaining my goal,” Addleson explained reasonably. “But your insistence that I share your passion is intolerable and, since you are not my heir, as that distinction belongs to a dull-witted squire whose interest in waistcoats is nonexistent, I feel no compunction in permanently parting ways.”

His cousin laughed as if a cruel threat had not just been issued. “This stop will only take a moment, and then we shall continue to Gentleman Jackson’s salon. I assure you, our appointment there is real and not a fiction I created to lure you here. Despite what you fear, I’m not lobbying for your inclusion in the horticultural society. I cannot think of a worse circumstance than to be trapped in a meeting hall with you. Now do let’s step inside so that I may complete my business swiftly and we can be on our way.”

Addleson continued to stare at Edward with a wary eye. “I cannot imagine what business has to be conducted en route to Gentleman Jackson’s. Surely, it can wait until after our session.”

“Time is of the essence,” Edward explained as he climbed out of the carriage. “Mr. Petrie’s secretary—you recall Mr. Petrie from Bolingbroke’s soiree?—he has arrived in town and is in possession of some information vital to my well-being. At this very moment, he is visiting with Mr. Berry and I do not want to lose the chance to consult with him. As I said, it will take but a moment.”

Remembering the tedium of the evening, Addleson seriously doubted that the secretary of the infamous American bore would be succinct. He expected this brief errand would consume the rest of the day and began to consider dropping his cousin in earnest. Of course he knew Edward wasn’t really trying to recruit him for his gardening club, but his genuine lack of respect for the viscount’s time was troubling. His valet took up too many of his free hours for him to accept an additional burden now.

On a sigh, Addleson entered the cheerful quarters of the British Horticultural Society, with its airy entranceway and comfortable wingback chairs. Mr. Berry, an animated man of mild affability who neatly handled the organization’s business affairs, was quietly sorting through a stack of publications on his desk. He glanced up at his visitors and immediately rose to his feet.

“Mr. Abingdon,” he said warmly, “what an unexpected pleasure.

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