If an eligible bachelor with a title and great fortune dares to set foot in this town, you, dear reader, may safely assume that the news of his arrival will travel fast and all the unmarried young ladies in London will have set their sights upon him within hours. It doesn't really matter whether he has come to town for business or pleasure or whether he is ugly or pretty, young or old, straight or gay.

In Prince Christian von Wildberg's case, there was additional gossip because the German prince had brought a travelling companion along with him. A terribly pretty lady who was a good fifteen years older than him had been seen in his carriage and was allegedly staying with him at his uncle's old house. This apparent scandal had sent the tongues of London's most acid gossipers wagging before the prince had even made his first public appearance at the Queen's ball, which was to take place on the following day.

"I can't believe he came here with his mistress!" Mrs. Applebee exclaimed. "But then again, it's not really a surprise, given who his parents were!"

"Don't remind me! Georgiana was such a sensation when she first came out and had the kindest, most innocent soul. But then she had to go and marry that German prince, Christian's father. He, of course, has had so many mistresses that he allegedly even stopped remembering their names at some point, and he dragged poor Georgiana down with him as soon as they got to his castle in Germany," my mother said to her friend and shuddered when she recollected the former society beauty's marital misfortune.

"Just think of having a husband like that! What would you have done?" Mrs. Applebee managed to look properly horrified at the mere thought of what she might have done, which I found ridiculous. As if she didn't know that her own husband had had a fling here and there along the way during their marriage!

"Well, I wouldn't have done what Georgiana did for sure! She had three small children, whom she had to leave when her affairs were exposed. As a matter of fact, her reputation was so ruined that she had to move to the New World with her lover. Now would you like to have another piece of cake?" my mother asked and helped herself to some of the delicious-looking apple pie our cook had brought in earlier.

"No, thank you. The dress I'm planning on wearing tomorrow is pretty tight. I don't want to swoon and reveal at this early stage that James and I are expecting a young one again," Mrs. Applebee revealed in a confidential tone although it was already quite obvious that she had gained a lot of weight recently. Perhaps the Applebees would finally be blessed with a son and heir to their fortune after 19 years of marriage and five healthy daughters.

"Have you ever considered that perhaps Prince Christian just doesn't want to get married! From what I've gathered, he is here to take care of his late uncle's estate."

My mother and Mrs. Applebee looked at me as if I had lost my mind. They had obviously thought I hadn't listened in to their conversation while I had been reclining on the sofa in our drawing room and had apparently been occupied with reading a novel called Waverley, which was quite popular at the moment and had been written by an anonymous author. Why would I, a young man in his early twenties, seriously listen to the gossip two matrons shared with each other during tea time?

"Edward, how can you say such nonsense! Of course, he has to marry at some point and have children! He will inherit his father's title and estate when that beastly man dies," my mother protested. "But I cannot think of any parents in town who would let him near their daughter if he is indeed openly living with his mistress! I won't even have him look at your sister at that ball if it is true."

My younger sister Bridget rolled her eyes upon hearing this. She had obviously been eavesdropping as well while she had been pretending to write something into her diary at a nearby desk. "Maman, I can hardly manage to get rid of the admirers I have at the moment and find the time to write my stories! So I think I'll be fine and don't need any more suitors, even if this one is a real prince."

Bridget's biggest ambition was to become a writer, not a housewife, but our mother refused to even discuss this. At 17, Bridget was a really beautiful tiny elf with her auburn hair, warm brown eyes and beautiful smile. Therefore, my mother had seen to it that she had come out this season. Even though the season had just begun, the amount of male visitors whom we had received at our house had been growing steadily: It appeared as if Bridget could have her pick among almost all the eligible bachelors in town as men from all age groups, ranging from a 19-year-old student to a 55-year-old gentleman with a title and estate in the country, were courting her. But that didn't really seem to matter to Bridget, who went on doing what she really wanted to do, namely penning torrid romance stories. Everyone in the household knew that, including my mother, just like everyone in the household had secretly read almost everything she had written. Bridget knew that she was not a bad writer and was confident enough to leave the drawer which contained her handwritten stories open all the time.

"Do we really have to go to that ball then?" I asked my mother. Ever since my father had suffered a fatal heart attack three years ago, my mother was dragging me all over town with her. I was not really someone who liked balls because I was a terrible dancer and felt terribly uncomfortable in the tight clothes I had to wear on such occasions. Of course, I was aware of my mother's intention of finding a good wife for me as well even though I didn't think I was ready for marriage yet. I had just celebrated my 21st birthday last week. But since my parents had married at ages 20 and 18 respectively, my mother thought I was old enough. She had once made this clear to me when she had said, "I don't want you to become a libertine!"

"Of course, we will go to that ball! It's an incredible honor to be invited to any ball hosted by the Queen!" my mother exclaimed. She apparently didn't mind to expose us to potentially bad influences as long as they had titles and grand fortunes and were among the Queen's favorites.