Lord TheodoreBishop

I hate these balls. 1878, London. A ball where every man goes to gloat and every woman goes to find a bastard to marry. I despise these events; just having to look at these greedy bastards and bitches makes my temples throb. It's another night, another sacrifice, but mother will have my head if I don't entertain the simpering women who I know just care for the money I can give. That, and my cock. It's no secret I'm a master in bed. I've taken probably half the women in this very ballroom - a luxurious space of bright chandeliers and floors swept by satin and lace. It's all I need, really. A nice little cock-glove or a quick fuck in the back halls before she happily weds her husband-to-be. I daresay I enjoy my rakish life, but my mother is insistent that I find a wife. Bloody hell, l