I had Random.org select a % and it selected 37%.
He held my gaze as he slowly lifted one finger after another, releasing my wrist. That bitter knot was back in my throat. The Prince had let go and his heavy lashes lowered, shielding his powerful gaze, but I swore I could still feel it. “My apologies,” he murmured. “That was uncalled for.”
“They were holding hands, and the only reason they were doing it was that they both wanted to. They wanted to touch one another. There was no escaping from that basic fact: Alice wanted, and was wanted in return.”
Alice had her eyes on that lady’s maid.
Most lady’s maids Alice had met were either French or at least pretended to be French; failing that, they were Englishwomen of the austere, rail-thin variety. Molly Wilkins was neither, and Alice didn’t know how she was supposed to concentrate on her sewing – or whatever it was she was meant to be doing – when there was an ample bosom or a pert backside within reach at all times.