Chapter Twelve
Lord Welles pulled up the reins so hard, his horse let him know in no uncertain terms that she was not happy. The carriage also came to a quick halt, causing all sorts of problems for the one behind them.
“I say!” the man called out from the back.
“Sorry!” Lord Welles called back. He loosened the reins and they continued on. “What would you like me to propose, Miss Sheffield?”
“Just what you would expect, my lord, marriage.”
“I’m sorry, but did you not say when you joined me this afternoon that you didn’t particularly like me?” he asked, looking at her curiously.
“It’s not that I don’t like you, necessarily,” Lydia started. She quickly stopped herself, however, not wanting to get into that cesspool of confusion. “But that’s neither here nor there. I want you to propose
