Isabelle Cromwell Whore ❤️

About Dunedin

Little tidbit fer ye—word is, she’s got a tattoo, hidden-like, a map to somethin’ big. Treasure? Revenge? Dunno, but I’d wager me last bottle o’ rum it’s real. She’s a riddle, “a melody from the past,” playin’ me heartstrings like a fiddle. Gets me thinkin’—maybe I’d court her, if I weren’t so wedded to the sea. Ha! Me, tied down? That’s a laugh—whore’d prob’ly rob me blind ‘fore the vows were done.

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During Oliver Cromwell's puritanical regicidal revolution, the fictional aristocratic manor lady Angelica Fanshawe follows her heart rather than political loyalty in the bloody conflict between .

Finally, we squeeze in, and I order a pint. It’s like liquid gold. I’m feelin’ good, but then I see this dude spill his drink all over some poor lady. I’m like, “Dude, what’s wrong with you?” But she just laughs it off. Only in Cromwell, right?

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