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up her engagement—again. I suppose she believes she can end up with a better match than a banker.”
    Bianca gives a little snort of derisive laughter. “Maybe she aspires for an earl or viscount. The title of a peeress certainly would be more appealing than being a mere gentleman’s wife.”
    Poppy looks rather indignant, but she picks up her teacup instead. I wonder if she wants to argue with Bianca but doesn’t dare to. I would like to argue, but then I don’t see the point. I’ve no idea who this Amelia Fairfax is.
    “But not all peers are desirable matches,” Claire says, smoothing the front of her gown. “Indeed, quite a few sons have married daughters of the nouvaeu riche to save their dwindling estates. One can hardly be expected to live comfortably off a title when there’s no fortune to support it.”
    I contemplate about how to broach the subject of the palace without appearing too eager. Lady Bradshaw says the palace is unlikely to hold a ball anytime soon. Still, I’m hoping for some chance to meet any royal household member and convince them to have a ball for the prince. The sooner I can persuade the royal family, the better.
    Claire takes a chocolate éclair; I notice that like Bianca, she has mastered the art of eating without getting any food on her teeth. “Aren’t you also due to present to the queen next week?”
    “Oh, you’re not presented yet?” Poppy asks excitedly. “Maybe we can all go together! I’ve been dying to see the palace, I’ve heard so much about it.”
    “It’ll depend on the dates,” Bianca says in a lukewarm tone.
    “Poppy, do calm down,” Claire says. With a shrug, she tells Bianca and me, “She’s been hoping to catch a glimpse of the prince. I told her not to get her hopes up.”
    I lean forward, my heart pounding. Is the prince already engaged? Are his standards beyond the sky’s limit?
    Bianca smirks, her eyes lit with amusement. “Do you even know what he looks like, Poppy?”
    “Well...” Poppy falters. “I’ve heard he is very handsome. Tall. And strong.”
    “Half of the palace guards fit that description.”
    “I am uncertain if Claire has informed you already, but Prince Edward may not meet your expectations,” Bianca says with a shrug of her elegant shoulders. “It is well known that he has little affection for balls and parties. He dislikes interacting with people—especially those he is not well acquainted with. He barely spoke at the queen’s birthday party. He nodded more than he opened his mouth.”
    “Truly?” Poppy looks at me for confirmation, but what can I say?
    “Er...yeah.” I don’t even know what the prince looks like. I only learned his name today.
    “Yet his antisocial behavior does not appear to impede many,” Claire says. Her eyes dart toward Bianca for a second. “He’s handsome, wealthy, and the only heir to the throne. Even if he were twenty years older and fifty pounds heavier, girls would still line up for his hand.”
    Bianca clears her throat. “True, but it is also unlikely he would wed a commoner, so that leaves out most girls in Athelia. Ideally he should wed a foreign princess, but of course it’s impossible.”
    “Why so?” Poppy asks, and I’m grateful. Her rural background makes her almost as ignorant as I am.
    Bianca and Claire laugh. “Princess Marie is still crawling on the floor in her baby dresses,” Claire explains.
    “So that leaves...” Poppy scrunches her face, “daughters of a duke or marquess?”
    “At the very least.”
    “Oh.” Poppy looks downcast for a moment, then she shrugs. “I guess I don’t mind, though. Mama says a girl ought marry up, but not too high, ‘cause then you might be socially incompatible. Besides, if what you say of the prince is true, I think a life with him would be boring.”
    Claire looks amused. “Poppy, Poppy,” she says, shaking her head. “You put all girls who hanker after the prince to shame. I ought to tell you to open your eyes and