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Amberwood stared at the table as if he was ascertaining the best way to hit the ball to gain the points he needed.

He already had five. Adrian didn’t believe he had much chance of winning the game.

Why didn’t the duke take his shot already?

He’d win if he played it safe. The duke lifted his cue stick and slid it across the table.

He leaned over and studied the angle, then took aim.

With ease that belied his inebriated state, he guided the stick over the table and struck his cue ball.

It raced across the table and collided with Adrian’s ball.

It jockeyed across the table and fell into a pocket.

He’d won. Of course, he had. That was what Adrian had expected all along.

Now to deal with the repercussions, because Amberwood wouldn’t soon let him forget it.

“And that, my friend,” Amberwood said smugly, “is how it is done.”

“And it only took until the candles nearly turned to nubs in the candelabra,” Easton drawled. “We might need to replace them if we wish to remain in the game room much longer.”

Adrian lifted a brow. “I doubt you would have fared better.”

The marquess mock saluted him. “Never claimed I would.” Adrian wondered if Declan would have played better than either himself or Amberwood. They would never know, would they? “However, that does not make my observation incorrect, either.”

Amberwood lifted a brow. “Has your mother calmed any since her arrival, or is she still being her usual pleasant self?”

Adrian frowned. Easton’s mother had been troubling him since her arrival.

Their sojourn at Easton Abbey had been meant to be a pleasant respite.

Since her arrival it had been difficult for him.

Though that dip in the pond with the two young ladies observing them had been interesting.

He was curious about those two ladies, and that nearby school.

What kind of ladies attended that academy?

“If by pleasant you mean a constant nag who fails to listen to me,” Declan began, “then yes. She is that.”

Laughter echoed throughout the room as both Adrian and Amberwood gave into their amusement.

He glared at both of them. Adrian didn’t know what it was like to have a doting mother, or one hell bent on plaguing him with her need for a grandchild.

That was at the crest of the matter. The dowager marchioness wanted Easton to produce an heir.

At least his father hadn’t started in on him about that.

As far as his own mother… She could not be bothered with Adrian.

After his birth she’d nearly disappeared from his life.

She had done her duty and provided the duke with an heir, and as far as she was concerned that would have to do.

His mother would not be having any more children and didn’t even care for the one she’d already birthed.

“She’s never been difficult with me,” Adrian said in a flippant tone. “Though I am not her son, so perhaps this is the missing ingredient in our exchanges.” He actually envied Easton. If only his own mother deigned to give him any attention.

The marquess rolled his eyes. “Well, my mother does wish to have a house party,” Declan announced. “I could tell her to start planning it and add your mother to the guest list.” He met Adrian’s gaze. “I’m sure she would be happy to make the addition. Your mother is a gift.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Adrian said with an edge to his tone.

He didn’t like the idea of his mother being near any more than the marquess did, but for far different reasons.

His own mother would be indifferent at best, but she’d far more likely ignore him as if he didn’t exist. Which of course to her, he didn’t.

“I’d dare much, as you know.” The marquess lifted his brandy and took a long draw. “I’d invite both of your mothers if it suited my purposes.” He grinned. “Lucky for the two of you, it does not. As I would rather poke my eye than agree to a house party.”

Amberwood’s lips tilted upward. “Are you certain?” He went over and poured himself another spot of brandy and took a sip. “Because it would give you a reason to invite those marriage-minded misses at that unfortunate school nearby. You could have your pick from the scraps of society.”

“I don’t need to invite those ladies to attend anything.” Easton glared at Amberwood. “That would be like welcoming trouble into my home. Who would willingly do that?”

The duke shrugged. “It was just a thought.” Adrian narrowed his gaze. Did Amberwood want Easton to have this party? More importantly, what was it about those girls at the school that had his attention?

“If you want me to,” Easton said in a devilish tone, “I can have that house party. I would hate to disappoint my two dearest friends. Just say the word, and I can have my mother begin the planning.” He frowned.

“Hell, if I know my mother, she already started and is going forward with it hoping she’ll convince me it is in my best interest to have that blasted party. ”

“Do not bother on our account,” Adrian said. “I’d rather not have to deal with marriage-minded misses.” He yawned. “And on that note, I’m off to bed.” He nodded at Amberwood. “Excellent game. We must have a rematch. Tomorrow, if possible.” Then he left the room in search of his bedchamber.

He couldn’t handle any more discussions about marriage, mothers, or anything regarding the future.

Adrian didn’t believe he had a happy one in store.

That was why he lived only in the moment.

That way he could ensure small measures of joy in his life.

When the topic of anything other than that arose, he quickly changed the direction of the conversation.

He wouldn’t make any plans, and he sure as hell had no desire to marry.

That would be an unfortunate outcome to any woman saddled to be by his side.

He could never offer love or devotion. Adrian was destined to be a disappointment. He would not wish that on anyone.