“The prior wouldn’t look at her. Instead, he pushed aside the venison on his plate in its rich gravy, and picked at the vegetables with his fingers. There was a two-tine fork and a napkin, but he either didn’t know how to use them or dismissed them as effete Italian imports. She’d dressed modestly, in a slate gown lined with velvet, with a russet dress and a white chemisette. A garland adorned with winter berries rested on her head, made for her by a woman from the village. She’d worn the mo...st modest clothing in her wardrobe—the gown with the tighter bodice and the dress with the heart-shaped decolletage remained upstairs—but she imagined she still looked too feminine for the prior’s comfort. But Lord Nemours’s steward had set the placements and put them across from each other. Marco and Lorenzo sat on either side of her. The older brother ate with gusto, and Lorenzo seemed even more ravenous. He cut off enormous chunks of dripping venison, then mopped the sauce with hunks torn from a loaf of bread.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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