Page 134 of Pride and Prejudice Resolutions

"I am volunteering to prevent you from finding one unworthy."

"You are mad."

"I am practical. You are a menace. Left to your own devices, you will terrorise every bachelor in London, frighten the clergy,and somehow manage to insult three dukes before Easter. It is in the interest of public safety that I supervise."

"Supervise." She repeated the word as if referring to a dead fish someone had placed in her lap. "You wish to supervise my husband-hunting."

"I wish to ensure you do not accidentally marry someone worse than Hurst. Which, given your taste, seems likely."

Caroline crossed the room in three swift strides, stopping directly in front of him by the window. She tilted her head back to glare into his face, her eyes blazing with an unholy fire.

"I would rather," she announced with perfect, crystalline fury, "marry Mr Hurst's horse than accept your assistance."

"Mr Hurst does not own a horse. He sold it to pay for port."

"Then I shall purchase a horse specifically for the purpose of marrying it. It would be better company."

"Horses do not attend balls."

"Neither do I. Not anymore."

The admission escaped before she could stop it. Her mouth snapped shut, but the damage was done. He saw the crack in the surface, the slip of truth beneath the performance.

"Not anymore," he repeated softly. "Why? Did someone rescind your invitations?"

"That is none of your concern."

"It is if I am to help you."

"I do not want your help!"

"You need it."

"I need—" She stopped, swallowing whatever sharp retort had been forming. Her chest rose and fell with the effort of restraining her temper. "You are insufferable."

"I have been called worse. Usually by superior officers."

"I hate you."

"You mentioned that earlier. Consistency is a virtue." He waited, letting the silence stretch until the tension in the roomcould have snapped iron. Then, with the deliberate care of a general playing his final card, "What about the debt, Miss Bingley?"

She went very still. "What?"

"You owe me. You said it at the opera. I am calling it in."

"That is not how debts work."

"It is how my debts work. And I am owed." He crossed his arms, his mouth curving into a smile that would have terrified a lesser woman. "You will accept my assistance in your husband hunting efforts. You will attend the Season. You will dance. You will smile. And you will not, under any circumstances, wear orange."

"I will do no such thing."

"Then you are a coward."

Her breath hissed between her teeth. "How dare you—"

"You stand in a gilded cage, Miss Bingley, pretending you chose the bars. You hide in this house, surrounded by bronze cherubs and broken drunkards, and you call it safety. But it is not safety. It is surrender."

"I have not surrendered."