No triflers wanted here in this absolutely normal, totally without subtext personal ad posted in the newspaper. Just a comely twice-widowed woman looking for companionship from a handsome man, as long as he doesn’t have any close relatives or anyone who would report him missing. That’s not weird or suspicious at all, and definitely a typical thing to do when you run a large farm in the middle of nowhere in the midwest where people could just disappear easily because it’s 1908. But if you get caught, definitely don’t pretend to kill yourself in a house fire and then vanish into the night like a total badass and never be punished for being a horribly successful serial killer (allegedly!). Definitely don’t do that. Just remind yourself that in your own love life, you don’t need any scrubs, and Triflers Need Not Apply.

Scent Notes: Creamy, buttery strawberry trifle with fresh shortcake. Resinous dragonsblood, red musk, graveyard dirt, and a drop of blood.