Page 135 of Pride and Prejudice Resolutions

"Prove it."

The challenge hung in the air. She stared at him, her mind racing, weighing options, calculating odds.

Finally, she spoke. "And what do you gain from this arrangement, Colonel? Do not claim altruism. You are far too mercenary for that."

"I have my reasons."

"That is not an answer."

"It is the only answer you will receive."

Her eyes narrowed. "I will not agree to terms when the other party conceals his motivations. What do you want, Colonel Fitzwilliam? Speak plainly."

"I want," he said slowly, his gaze steady and undecipherable, "to ensure you do not make a catastrophic error in judgement. You have a talent for aiming at the wrong target. Consider this a charitable intervention."

"Charitable." She laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. "You expect me to believe you are motivated by benevolence?"

"I expect you to believe I have reasons that are my own. Whether you trust them is immaterial. You need assistance. I am offering it. The terms are simple, you accept my guidance, you attend the Season, and you do not, under any circumstances, accept a proposal without consulting me first."

"Consulting you?" Her voice rose. "You wish to approve my suitors like some sort of military tribunal?"

"I wish to prevent you from marrying a brute, a wastrel, or a bore. Which, given the current state of London's eligible bachelors, eliminates approximately ninety per cent of your options."

"And what gives you the authority to make such determinations?"

"Experience. Observation. And a vested interest in seeing you settled appropriately."

"Why?" She stepped closer, her face tilted up to his, her eyes searching his face for cracks in the armour. "Why do you care where I settle or with whom?"

He met her gaze without flinching. "I will not reveal my reasons."

"Then I will not accept your offer."

"Yes, you will."

"Your arrogance is staggering."

"Your options are limited." He gestured to the opulent room around them. "You can sit here, waiting for invitations that will not come. Or you can accept my escort, attend every ball, rout, and musicale this Season has to offer, and find a husband whowill not drink himself into an early grave or pawn your jewellery to pay his gambling debts."

Her eyes held his, her chest rising and falling with barely contained fury. "And if I refuse?"

"Then the debt remains unpaid. And I am not a patient creditor, Miss Bingley."

The silence stretched between them. Caroline's jaw worked, her mind cataloguing every possible avenue of escape and finding them all blocked.

"Very well," she said at last, biting off each word. "I accept your odious offer. But I demand to know your true motives, Colonel. You cannot expect me to trust a man who hides behind vague pronouncements and smug superiority."

"I expect nothing of the sort. Trust is not required. Cooperation is."

"Then tell me why you are doing this!"

He collected his hat from the side table, settling it at a jaunty angle. His mouth curved into a smile that revealed nothing.

"All in good time, Miss Bingley," he said, moving to the door. "All in good time."

"That is not an answer!"

"I am aware. Next time I see you, ensure you are wearing a garment that will not cause livestock to stampede. I implore you."