Ventura was shivering, not so much with cold but from some unnamed fear, as finally she slipped her long white nightgown over her head and then knelt on a Prie-Dieu to say her prayers.
Always in the past her prayers had brought her comfort and peace. She was always certain that when she prayed she drew nearer to her mother. Her comforting protection and love, which was with her always, was even closer when her heart was raised to God.
But tonight that sense of peace and understanding did not come to Ventura. Instead she felt merely apprehensive. Of what and why she did not know. She only knew that it was there. A fear she could neither name nor understand. A fear that was heavily overshadowed by her unhappiness because Lord Lynke was annoyed with her.
She prayed for a long time. The tap
