THE EARL HELD OUT A HAND AND GRABBED the hamper, putting the blankets on top. “We need to talk, and the library will be less gloomy than the kitchen.” They’d had to sprint for the kitchen when a summer squall had caught them napping on their blankets, and the rapid shift from pleasantly dozing to a dead run still had Anna disoriented. She put her hand in his but found she dreaded this talking he wanted. Words could land with the force of a blow, and she was going to hurt herself with what must be said, and very likely anger him, as well. When they arrived at the library, he pulled the cushions from the window seats and fashioned a nest on the floor with those and the blankets. Retrieving the champagne bottle from the hamper and cracking one window, he settled cross-legged on the blanket and watched her as Anna moved restlessly around the room. “Have some.” He held up the bottle. “We can swill from the bottle like heathens if it won’t offend you.” She joined him and took a pull from the bottle.
