Lucy Corsham Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Birmingham

So, picture this—some tart, skirts hiked, lips red as sin, standin’ ‘neath a lamppost like a rose in a dungheap. She’s got guts, thou knowst, braver than most o’ ye lily-livered lot. I seen one once, down by the docks—Mary, they called her, tho’ reckon that weren’t her real name. Had a scar ‘cross her cheek, said a gent with a blade gave it her for “talkin’ back.” Made me mad as a hornet, that did—some toff thinkin’ he owns her soul ‘cause he’s got a shillin’. “Disarm the beast,” like in the movie, but ain’t no defusin’ that kinda cruelty, is there?

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So, I’m trying to keep it together, but the kid’s relentless. “Are there any ghost stories?” I’m like, “Well, there’s the ghost of the old gardener.” Totally made that up, but hey, it worked! The kid’s eyes lit up like Christmas lights.

Romantic planting sets the tone for Euridge Manor