Page 67 of Midnight with the Marquess (The St. Clairs 2)

Turning back to Evan, Gray said, “Everyone who begins drinking to excess has a reason why they turned to strong drink. What is yours?”

“That’s none of your business,” Evan spat out, his head throbbing painfully at hearing his voice raised.

The doctor eyed him steadily. “Everything about you from now on is my business, my lord. If you truly want to conquer this demon, you must give me full access to what troubles you. I demand total honesty from you and commitment to the work we will have to do.”

“I can barely swallow. Can I have something to drink?”

“Soon. Talk to me.”

Evan supposed he had nothing to lose. “I fell in love. Madly, passionately in love. I was foolish enough not to tell the lady. And then I found out that she didn’t love me. A poor excuse to fall into my cups.”

“No. I think it a much more admirable reason than some I’ve heard. Go on.”

“She believes in love, Doctor. She wants to wed a man she loves and one that loves her. Obviously, I could never be that man.”

“And yet here you are.”

He shrugged. “My friends seemed convinced that she does harbor feelings for me. I would like to present myself to her one last time and reveal what I didn’t before. If her feelings have changed, we might make a go of it. If not?”

“If not, you will have regained your sobriety and have a chance to live. You were an officer in the army?”

“Yes. I was a major.”

“Wounded?”

“Twice.”

“And before... you didn’t drink much?”

“It didn’t hold much appeal for me. I’d rather have a good plate of meat and something sweet to eat.”

“That’s good,” Gray said. “We will need to build your appetite back up. Sots rarely eat much—and that is what you are, my lord. You must recognize it. Own it. And then fight it. You must destroy what drink has done to you before it annihilates you, body and soul.”

Evan noticed that his hands shook. That was always a sign that he needed to pour himself another drink. If he was to conquer this, he would have to be strong.

The sudden urge to regurgitate overwhelmed him and he raced to the chamber pot, vomiting for a long time. The nausea remained, though, and he found himself sweating profusely.

“Any abdominal pain?” Gray inquired.

“Yes.” His gut tightened. Bile rose in his throat and he forced it back down.

“You’re sweating. Shaking. These are all signs that it’s been six to eight hours since your last drink.”

“That would be correct,” Evan said, his teeth beginning to chatter.

A knock sounded at the door and it swung open. A burly man with a grim countenance stepped inside and waved a crew of servants forward. They set down a copper tub and added buckets of hot and cold water, leaving a few for rinsing. One woman left a towel and bar of soap and then the line of servants disappeared.

The strapping man remained. He looked as if he were no stranger to a street fight. His nose had been busted multiple times.

“This is Randolph,” Dr. Gray said. “He will bathe you.”

Evan found himself moved around as a puppet, with no control over his limbs. Gray’s assistant stripped him and lifted him, placing him in the tub and scrubbing the life out of him. He thought he would be sick again but he only dry heaved. Randolph scrubbed his scalp, causing Evan regret when his head refused to explode and end everything.

Finally, the ordeal was over and Randolph wrapped him in the provided towel and lifted him from the tub. He carried Evan to the bed and placed him on it, retrieving a dressing gown from a wardrobe filled with gentleman’s clothing. They must belong to Alex since none of his had been brought along. The dressing gown hung on him. He assumed all the clothes would, too.

“Staying clean and dressing is important. For now, you’re to try and sleep. You will become anxious the longer you go without a drink. Strong drink gives you a sense of confidence. A feeling as if you can do anything. Once it is taken away, your mood shifts from elevated to plunging to depths you have never imagined. You will become depressed. Feel totally worthless. It’s all a part of the process.”

Already, Evan’s body had begun sweating again, despite only being minutes removed from his bath. The nausea had never left.

“I’m still thirsty,” he said.

“You will get broth soon. Right now, you’re to try and rest. Some of my patients experience insomnia at this point, which might last for days. If you cannot sleep, you will at least stay in bed for several hours of rest.” Gray smiled. “Trust me, Lord Merrick. I have done this many times. I know what you need and when you’ll need it.”

Evan closed his eyes, despair washing over him.

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