When Morris turned on her, his face ugly with annoyance, she stepped close and drove her knee up as hard as she could into his groin. That was the plan, at least. Her bloody narrow skirt hampered the force of it, and Morris had good reflexes. Violet managed only a glancing blow between his legs—not what she’d intended, which was to drive his fucking bollocks so far up his arse his ancestors would be singing soprano.
