"You'll feel better in the morning," I promise. "And there's blood by the bed if you wake up and need it."
"I love you, Bea," he murmurs.
"I love you too," I respond, stroking his forehead and trying not to think about how much my heart is hurting for him. Sooner or later, we're going to have to find a more sustainable way of making it so that he doesn't have to drink when he's in meetings.
Perhaps it's time to pay a member of the serving staff, even if I have no idea how to even go about doing that.
Linc drifts off to sleep, his chest moving quickly and he mutters unintelligible words a few times. My heart aches, and I'm unable to move.
All thoughts of plotting or political dealings vanish from my mind and are replaced by the unwavering question of what I'm supposed to do to help Linc when I have no idea what he's facing.
The only thing that I know for certain is that I'm going to find a way to support him through this, even if he has to do the hard part himself.
TEN
Even though it's been hours since we got up and Linc assured me he's all right, I can't help but let my gaze drift to him. He looks rough, and is muttering under his breath while he fiddles with something.
I head over to where he's sitting in one of his library chairs and put a hand on his shoulder.
He looks up and I get a chance to see the ribbon in his hands.
"Is that...".
He nods. "Its the one you gave me when I first told you that I had a problem."
"I didn't realise you kept it," I said softly.
He swallows hard. "I haven't used it for a while," he admits. "But I put it in my pocket earlier."
"Are you feeling all right?" I take a seat next to him, glad that we don't have much to do today, which is a good thing, though the ball tomorrow is going to be difficult.
"I've been better," he murmurs. "The blood is helping." He nods over to where a jug is sitting on the table.
"Good, it's supposed to."
"I thought I would be stronger."
"You were strong," I assure him. "What you're doing isn't easy."
He groans and rubs a hand over his face. "And what about next time? This is hardly going to be the last time I'm sitting with a glass of wine in front of me."
"It isn't," I agree. "And it probably won't be the last time you slip. But that's nothing that we can't deal with."
"Mmm."
"And we can do things to make it easier," I promise. "I was wondering if we could pay one of the servants to pour you drinks without anyone else knowing or realising that you're doing it."
"I don't think I know any of the servants well enough to ask that."
"Then we'll find someone," I say. "I'll ask Jemima. Lord Fallmartin already knows you don't want to drink, though he thinks it's because you don't like it."
He grimaces. "All right."
"I know it isn't ideal, but with people you don't know, it might be possible just to say you don't like wine."
He takes a deep breath. "I know you're right, it just feels like it's revealing something I shouldn't."
My heart aches for him and I reach out to cup his cheek in my hand. "It's terrifying to be vulnerable. It scares me to think of how much of me I've shown to you, but it also doesn't, because I love you, and I want you to see me. I need you to see me. And I want to see you. Even the parts that you want to keep locked away." I hope he knows how true that is. How completely I want him to see me, and how completely I want to see him.