A prioress was as different from the average woman as a king from a serf. She could become a prioress before she turned thirty. Not a pious education of prayers and chanting, but one of high practicality, leading to the only career open to a noblewoman.
All her life she had been trained by Helen for life in a nunnery. “You’re the only one I have left,” Robert said, his voice heavy with disgust. He could use her beauty to his advantage. Her forehead broad and strong, as was her chin, her nose straight, her mouth generous. Judith had those odd golden eyes that some men raved about, but which he found unsettling. He noticed with satisfaction that she looked like Helen had at that age. Actually, the girl had been kept hidden most of her life, buried with her mother in their own apartments amid their books and ledgers. Robert looked at his daughter as if seeing her for the first time. He had no use for women since his first wife died and his second, a frightened woman, had merely given him a girl. He didn’t usually bother with his only daughter. Judith studied Robert Revedoune with a vague sense of curiosity. She knew his ravaged face was due to his grief at the loss of his beloved sons two ignorant, cruel men who were exact replicas of their father. His eyes were red with deep circles beneath them. Judith felt no fear of the man in spite of all he’d done over the years to make her fear him. JUDITH REVEDOUNE LOOKED ACROSS THE LEDGER AT HER father. Join our mailing list and get updates on new releases, deals, bonus content and other great books from Pocket Books and Simon & Schuster.
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