Free The Arrangement by Joan Wolf

inside the coach.
    “I am dressed warmly,” I said firmly, “and I would rather be cold than sick.”
    “Very well.” He opened the window, leaned out, and shouted to Grove to stop the horses. We alighted in the middle of the road, which was the only area not covered in snowdrifts. I could see the tracks of the Brighton Mail that Grove was following.
    Before I could protest, Savile put his hands on my waist and swung me up next to Grove on the high box. I felt the touch of his hands all the way through my wool dress and my pelisse.
    Grove looked at me as if I were insane. “It’s too cold for you up here, Mrs. Saunders,” he said.
    I trotted out my lie about feeling sick.
    Grove’s mouth set in a disapproving line, but he unwrapped the plaid wool blanket from around his legs and handed it to me.
    “No, no, no!” I protested in distress. “I do not mean to rob you of your blanket, Grove. I shall be fine, I promise you.”
    From his position on the ground beside us, Savile recommended, “Tuck the blanket around yourself, Mrs. Saunders. I can promise you that as long as you’re beside him, Grove won’t use it himself, so someone might as well get the benefit of its warmth.”
    I looked at the set of Grove’s jaw and knew that Savile was speaking the truth. I felt terrible. “Thank you, Grove,” I said in a small voice.
    “Ye’re welcome, Mrs. Saunders.”
    The earl disappeared, and Grove picked up the reins after he heard the coach door slam closed. He clucked to the chestnuts and we moved off again at a slow trot.
    I hunched up, wrapped the blanket around myself, and tried to convince myself that I wasn’t freezing. I could have ridden in that temperature, because when you ride you are exercising. Driving is sedentary, however, and after an hour I was shivering badly. I was just about to ask Grove to stop so I could get back into the coach when the earl once again called for Grove to halt the horses.
    “Time to switch places, John,” Savile said as he came to stand beside the box. “I’ll drive while you get in out of the wind for a bit.”
    “It ain’t windy, your lordship,” Grove protested.
    “It is when you’re sitting on an open box behind trotting horses,” the earl returned. “Come on, man. Get down.”
    Grove wrapped the reins and slowly got to his feet. He moved stiffly, and I realized that the cold had gotten into his joints.
    I felt even more guilty about stealing his blanket.
    Grove jumped to the ground, staggered, and was supported by his lordship’s gloved hand.
    Savile looked at me. “You too, Mrs. Saunders,” he said. “Your stomach must be feeling better by now.”
    “Yes, it is,” I said through chattering teeth.
    The earl reached up, and without any hesitation I put my hands on his shoulders and let him lift me to the ground. He held the coach door for me and I got in, followed by Grove. Savile shut the door and after a minute we felt the coach rock a little on its springs as the earl climbed up onto the box. Then we were once more moving forward.
    “Oh dear,” I said. “I still have the blanket!”
    “Keep it, Mrs. Saunders,” Grove recommended.
    I felt a flash of irritation. If the two of them are so determined for me to keep this benighted blanket, then I will! I thought. I tucked it around my waist and leaned back, grateful for the soft squabs and the lack of wind. I closed my eyes and pretended to go to sleep.
    The slow trot of the horses was extremely soporific and I was almost asleep for real when the carriage stopped again and the men once more changed places. I lifted my heavy eyelids and regarded them sleepily. Then the carriage moved off and once again my eyes closed.
    Someone rearranged the blanket around me. I mumbled a word of thanks and drifted off into oblivion.
    * * * *
    I opened my eyes to feel a strong male arm holding me snugly against a big warm body. I realized that the wool under my cheek was that of a man’s coat.
    I struggled hazily up from