Ashe gave a nod then lined up his shot. With a light click, he knocked the six ball into the side pocket. “Pay the man, Clarendon.”
Greenwich held out his hand, grinning as Marcus laid a stack of pound notes onto his palm. “Care to wager again?”
“Double,” Marcus said.
Greenwich chuckled as he tucked the notes into his pocket. “Four hundred pounds it is.”
Ashe strolled around the billiards table, his gaze trained on the remaining balls. Stopping at the far end, he positioned his stick. The cue ball spiraled across the green baize missing its mark entirely. “Bloody hell.”
“A bit too much English, old pal.” Kissinger clapped a hand over Ashe’s shoulder.
Marcus elbowed Greenwich, playfully. “Pay up.” He collected his wager from Greenwich then strolled over to the billiards table. Two balls remained and the cue sat locked to the rail. A difficult shot, but he enjoyed a challenge.
Taking a minute to chalk his cue, Marcus studied the angles before leaning over the table and positioning his stick through the arch of his finger. He hit his mark true sending the cue straight into the seven ball. Marcus roamed to the opposite end of the table, his gaze trained on the eight ball. He'd have to bounce the cue ball off the far rail to send the eight home. Though difficult, the shot was easier to manage then the last had been. The victory would be his.
Lining up his shot, Marcus positioned his stick then slid it back and forth through his fingers, once, twice…
“I hear the Earl of Drivel is out for your blood,” Ashe said. “I must admit the Drivel chit seems to be a sweet little morsel, but I’ve never had a thing for debutants. When did your tastes turn toward innocent ladies?”
The stick slipped through Marcus’s finger’s hitting the wrong edge of the cue ball and causing him to miss the shot. Scowling, he turned to Ashe. “I don’t.”
"I heard something about that as well." Greenwich took a sip of his whiskey. "Has the matter been settled?"
“It was merely a misunderstanding. The lady found herself in need of assistance and I provided it. Nothing is amiss.” Marcus peered at Ashe. “Now take your bloody shot.”
Marcus did not care to discuss the matter. It had been one hell of a headache for him and now that it was behind him, he wished to leave it there. In truth, it had been a rather mundane incident. The lady had become entangled in undergrowth while walking paths at a garden party. When Marcus came upon her, he offered his assistance.
A move that required him to drop to his knees and untangle her skirt and slipper covered foot. He was caught with his hand beneath her skirt and all hell broke out. Her father insisted she'd been compromised and demanded marriage. Marcus refused. In time the Earl came to understand the truth and everything settled down. Marcus shivered at the thought of how close he'd come to being caught in the parsons' noose. See if he ever went out of his way to aid an innocent again.
“It seems your luck has ended.”
Ashe’s voice broke through his thoughts and Marcus peered at the man. “Only because you distracted me.”
“Don’t be a sore loser.” Ashe sat his stick against the wall then moved to the sideboard to retrieve his tumbler. “Winning is winning. I cannot help it if you can’t talk while you play.”
Marcus shook his head, a mixture of annoyance and amusement warring within him. He dropped a stack of pound notes on the table. “Take it.”
"Don't mind if I do." Ashe strolled over and scooped up the pile.
Marcus twirled his cue stick in his hand. “Care for another round?”
“I prefer to quit while I am ahead. Leastwise where you are involved.” Ashe tipped his tumbler to his mouth, drawing the contents. “Besides, I’ve grown tired.”
“You’re a puppy." Marcus shook his head. "It's barely eleven."
“I had farther to travel then you did. We can’t all live nearby.” Ashe sat his empty tumbler on the sideboard then quit the room.
Marcus released a breath as he leveled his gaze on Kissinger. “How about you?”
“I’m afraid not.” Kissinger stood then rolled his shoulders as he yawned. “My wife awaits me.”
“Bloody glad I don’t have one of those,” Greenwich said. “But all the same, I am ready to retire as well.”
“I might as well be hanging out with a bunch of old maids.” Marcus shook his head.
“Be that as it may, I am off for bed.” Greenwich returned the decanter to its rightful place.
Marcus watched as his friends retreated from the room. He racked the balls and cleared the table while he enjoyed another drink. No doubt his friends would be refreshed and far better company on the marrow.
