The Perfect Arrangement (The Not So Saintly Sisters #4) - Annabelle Anders Page 0,2

five and twenty. Liverman could wreak all sorts of havoc in her life before she could claim her independence. Christian would have cursed out loud if he’d been alone.

But not ten feet ahead of him, a delightfully pretty blonde lady had stepped out of a storefront carrying several bags and hatboxes presumably filled with frivolous purchases. As she turned to make her way onto the sidewalk, she began juggling them somewhat precariously and, before Christian could reach her, sent her unstable pyramid of packages tumbling onto the pavement.

“Feck and fiddlesticks!” she muttered to herself. Grinning at her choice of words, Christian crouched down beside her as she hastily scooped a few lacy garments back into their boxes.

“Allow me to assist you, Madam.” He reached for a purple feathered… hat? And then a slip of material… a silk stocking.

A small, pale hand snatched it away and the lady damn near growled, “It’s not necessary, Sir. Thank you all the same.”

Coffee-colored eyes glanced over at him in exasperation.

“My apologies,” Christian responded. A crimson hue had flushed her cheeks, making it obvious she wasn’t only irritated but embarrassed. At the same time, slightly crooked but pearly white teeth worried her bottom lip… Cherry red lips that were quite plump and soft looking.

“I ought to have had them delivered. It’s just that my mother wanted them for this evening.” She’d stuffed the items back into the boxes, but she’d stacked the smallest of them on the bottom, and they would have toppled over again if Christian hadn’t reached out to prevent them from doing just that. He caught a subtle scent of lilacs as he did so—pleasantly feminine without being overpowering.

“Perhaps if we move this one…” He rearranged the order while she looked on, creating a more stable platform, placing the largest on the bottom and the second largest next, and so forth, until he topped them off with the smallest of the lot. “Are you going far, Madam? I’d be more than happy to assist you to your coach.”

She shook her head and, in doing so, dislodged a blond curl from beneath her jaunty hat. The silky golden curl managed to frame her heart-shaped face almost perfectly on one side.

“I’ve not far to walk. I’m quite capable.” Except when she rose to stand, the top box slid backward and tumbled over her shoulder, causing her to growl again.

Christian collected it, along with the newspaper they’d both missed, and jammed them into one of her bags, amused again at the choice words she breathed just loud enough for him to hear.

“Thank you, again.” She gathered herself enough to address him politely.

“You are quite certain?” He itched to reach out and take the packages from her, giving her no choice in the matter, rather than watch her struggle along the street to eventually injure herself or another pedestrian. If she was Bernadette, he would have done just that.

Christian brushed at his own jacket instead. She was no responsibility of his. He had more than his fair share without taking on even more.

“I will be fine.” And then she smiled sheepishly at him over the top of her packages. Although her hair partially covered her face, the apologetic glance she sent had something warm shooting through his veins. “Have a good day, Sir.” She dipped her chin and then turned and continued along her way.

“You as well.” He wanted to ask her name but before he could think of an appropriate reason for doing so, she was already carefully making her way along the walk.

Which, he reminded himself, was just as well. He had no business flirting. He straightened his jacket and continued toward his solicitor’s offices.

A slight twinge of regret struck, however, when she turned off his route at the next corner, disappearing completely.

Perhaps Cornelius had been right in his first suggestion. Perhaps Christian should settle upon one of the ladies he’d met earlier that year—before Calvin’s death.

He hated not having a plan.

Despite his best efforts, by the time he’d nearly arrived at The Law Offices of Smythe and Smith, he’d failed to conjure a single female who might be capable of coping with what lie ahead. Christian planted his cane on the walkway with more force than necessary and frowned.

Not a moment later, the sound of thundering hooves caught his attention. A runaway coach was careening along the street and the driver was standing and yelling at the two unruly horses pulling it.

Heading directly for Christian.

In one swift move, he jumped up and over