Author's Note: Thank you for all your reviews on the previous chapter. Please keep on reading.

She changed the cloth periodically, when his temperature rendered it useless, and after quickly scoffing her lunch set about finishing her book. His temperature remained the same and did not climb, so she took comfort in that.

It was late afternoon when she set the book aside and reached out to stroke his forehead.

"I am worried," she admitted, though she knew he wouldn't hear her, "I don't like when you're not here for me to chastise."

There was silence and then, to her surprise, he spoke.

"You…woke me," he whispered weakly, "Can I have…some water…sweetheart?"

Even when sick, he was nothing if not dearly affectionate. She reached for the jug and poured a glass. He took slow sips as she supported his sweaty head and she was so surprised he let her do that she almost enjoyed it.

"You've been asleep for hours," she said softly, running her finger impulsively down his nose.

He smiled with his eyes still closed, "I…I love your bed."

"Even when you're sick you're irreverent," she touched his head, "And you're still very sick."

"I…feel better," he murmured, "You're here."

"I'm glad I can be of use," she bent to kiss his forehead.

"Always."

A while later Clarisse was awoken by the click of the door. She hadn't, of course, intended to fall asleep but she had and her neck was sore from the odd angle at which she'd been resting.

"Charlotte," she lifted herself up.

"Please, Your Majesty," the secretary motioned with a gentle hand.

"Oh Charlotte, I did not mean to fall asleep," she shook her head, "What time is it?"

"Seven in the evening," her secretary answered and then she looked suddenly nervous, "I came to ask you about your sleeping arrangements. I could have Mrs. Kowt make the blue room up or even the King's Suite."

Clarisse nodded and knew precisely what Charlotte was trying not to say.

She pointed towards the sitting room, "There are two perfectly wonderful settees in there that are rarely used and lots of blankets."

"But I can-"

She waved a dismissive hand, "Honestly Charlotte, it is fine."

Charlotte gave a polite nod and turned to go but at the door she stopped again.

"Charlotte, what is it?"

"I just – "

She gave her secretary a gentle smile, "You are worried about what the rest of the palace will have to say?"

Charlotte nodded chastely and said nothing.

"Oh Charlotte," she smiled, "It can't matter all that much."

"When he's not here," Charlotte pointed to Joseph's prone form seriously, "It's my job to protect you."

"And you do and this is my suite and he is my friend," she said kindly.

Charlotte smiled patiently, "But-"

"No Charlotte," she said mildly, "It will be fine."

But as she watched Charlotte go, her senses finally came back to her and she knew she was simply filling their mouths if she slept here. The reality was that she had intended to pull a blanket to the bed and lie beside him. It was not that she did not trust anyone else to tend to him and, as she was willing to acknowledge, there were far more capable people than her but she wanted to be the one to do it. She wanted to be the one to hold a cloth to him every moment until his fever broke. Because that was what he metaphorically did for her every day. And while it was a lovely and well-intended sentiment she knew it was an unachievable one too. She knew it was one that would fuel palace gossip quite like nothing else.

"Charlotte," she swung her legs round, "You are, of course, right."

She would be lying to say the look of relief on Charlotte's face was not irritating but she understood it acutely too.

"What about the King's suite?"

Charlotte's eyes flitted towards the door at the far wall of Clarisse's bedroom. It was a heavy oak portal which led to a small antechamber and then another door into the larger, and even more luxurious, King's apartments. It hadn't been uses since Rupert had died but it had been cleaned and updated regularly and dust sheets had been deployed to keep it fresh.

"A good idea Charlotte, thank you."

The girl smiled, "I'll let Mrs. Kowt know to prepare it for you."

Clarisse did not need to say anymore, "Thank you dear."

A few moments passed and she climbed from the bed to soak the cloth.

"Wise choice," he rasped suddenly, "I've…taught her well."

She laughed a little and, coming towards him, pressed the cloth to his burning forehead.

"Such self-confidence," she dabbed the material onto his brow, "Even when you're sick as a dog."

He touched loving but firm fingers to her wrist to stop her movements, "She was right, you know."

"I know."

"But…I know what you wanted and I love you for it."

"I love you too," she continued to dab his head, "Is that good?"

"Mmmm," he nodded, "Oh…completely. I can feel my whole body again."

He tugged at his collar weakly, "Do you think you could take my tie off?"

She did as she was bid with deft fingers and set it on the side table.

"Better," he managed a delicate smile, "It's a sad day that I only get to be in Her Majesty's bed when I happen to pass out in its vicinity."

She nodded her agreement and climbed up beside him, "Indeed it is."

He groaned a little and winced as the bed shifted beside him.

"Oh sorry," she said sweetly, edging away.

"My head…"he grimaced, "It's terrible."

"Can I do anything?"

There was a moment of silence and he let his head loll against the pillow, "No. Thank you."

She nodded, "You should slee-"

"Clarisse," he sounded distressed, "Clarisse I'm supposed to see my little sister tomorrow."

She nodded in agreement, "Don't worry. I have fixed it."

He smiled but she could tell it involved a lot of effort, "Clarisse, you're wonderful. Was she disappointed?"

"Oh," she said casually, "I invited her here."

His face darkened for a moment but he said nothing.

"Are you alright?"

"Mmm," he said, "Yes."

"No you're not," she said quietly, "It's because I invited her here."

He looked defensive and irritated for a moment but then his face fell, "A bit, yes."

"Oh."

He held her hand suddenly, "Don't do that."

"What?" She asked airily.

"That," he squeezed her hand but it was weak, "That hurt, dismissive tone."

"Well don't be hurtful and dismissive then," she said, a little more sharply than she intended.

"It's just…"

She awaited his answer the way she always awaited answers from people who had irritated her. Her hand pulled from his and folded in her lap, her eye brow raised, her eyes glistening with burgeoning anger.

"I just…" he groped for the words, "I-"

"Don't you want her to meet me?"

He sighed, "I knew you'd take it like this."

She twisted her head, "How precisely am I meant to take it?"

He shook his own and winced as he did so. If she hadn't been so angry she would have been far more pitying.

"Clarisse, come on. You know it's not about that."

She felt chastened for a moment, "I suppose not."

"I don't want…" he didn't want to have this conversation right now, she could see, "I…she suspects about us. It's hard. I live two separate lives. I don't want them to collide when we're not ready, that's all."

She nodded silently, "I understand. I can-"

"It's done now," he rasped, "Don't worry about it."

"I will though."

"Well don't. It will be fine," he reached for the glass on the bedside table and took a drink unsteadily.

"I'll do it," she reached out but he gently brushed her hand away.

"I'm alright," he promised, "Just tired."

"Sleep then."

He looked up at her, "Sleep here with me."

"You just told me not to," she laughed, a little exasperated.

"Yes, I suppose I should have clarified that," he threw her that crooked smile he knew she couldn't resist, "I meant pretend to sleep next door. Isn't that what that," he motioned to the heavy oak door at the far end of her bedroom, "Is for?"

She looked at it," I suppose."

"Go ruffle the sheets, then come back here."

She smiled at him, "Are you giving me orders?"

"Isn't it your job to look after me?"

"It is, yes."

"And what would make me infinitely better is to hold you through the night," he said genuinely, without even a hint of jocularity.

She kissed his forehead quickly, "Fine."