“I hear she calls them her babies,” Mr. Twigg whispered. “People say she’s gone mad since her own children died. All she has left are her bees and Prince Oliver. No wonder the man’s such a prick.”
He nodded toward Prince Oliver, standing near the queen in a brilliant navy suit. He wore a pearlescent porcelain mask and spoke with a young woman and her mother. A horde of other debutantes lingered nearby, waiting for their turn.
The prince’s eyes left the woman in front of him and found Elswyth’s. He stared at her curiously until Mr. Twigg swept her away.
Elswyth frowned, wondering why the prince had looked so strangely at her. Then she felt Mr. Twigg’s hands slide lower along her back.
She cleared her throat. “Mr. Twigg.”
“Miss Elderwood,” the man said. He smiled, and his teeth were crooked.
“Your hand appears to be slipping.”
“Is it?” Mr. Twigg said. His finger tucked beneath the leaves that made her gown, finding the skin of her lower back. He caressed it awkwardly.
“Perhaps I gave you the wrong impression with my gown,” Elswyth said.
“Oh, I think you gave me the perfect impression.”
“And what is that?”
“Don’t be coy. I know how you Elderwoods are.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Elswyth started, but the dance reached a crescendo, and Mr. Twigg spun her quickly,reaching farther into her gown, touching the skin just below her waist.
Then Mr. Twigg jumped. He pulled back his hand, which was speckled with small, bloody pinpricks. He grabbed his finger, making a pitiful expression. “Eden! What was that?”
Elswyth retracted the thorns that sprouted from her lower back. “Really, Mr. Twigg, you should know not to venture into brambles. There might be thorns. Do remember that, next time your hand slips beneath a lady’s gown.”
The waltz ended. The other dancers disbanded, walking past them. None seemed to have noticed. Mr. Twigg’s face blanched. He began to speak but then stopped. His face went from white to red, and he leaned slightly forward, subtly covering his groin with his hands. A noticeable swell was starting there, pressing against his pants.
“What… what did you do to me?”
Elswyth cocked her head. “I only gave you what you wanted. Why, it might even be the natural result of your explorations beneath my gown. But I did inject a potent aphrodisiac through that thorn.Epimedium sagittatum.It has a rather funny common name: horny goat weed, I believe.”
Mr. Twigg’s eyes widened. Elswyth walked past him but lingered by his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched. “Idohope you find what you were looking for tonight, Mr. Twigg. The herb should last a few hours. Best of luck.”
With that, Elswyth left the dance floor. Mr. Twigg lingered for a moment, hunched over, and hurried away. A few women nearby chuckled as he ran through the exit. Some other men stared at her warily—she supposed she really was a thornback, now, after all.
Elswyth reached for another glass of champagne and frowned.But what had Mr. Twigg meant, when he saidI know how you Elderwoods are?
Someone cleared their throat behind her. Elswyth turned to see not another suitor but a squat bespectacled man.
“Dr. Gall,” she said, smiling. “I hadn’t expected you here.”
Dr. Gall looked sheepish. “I’m not one for balls, really, but ever since I was given my title, I’m required in all sorts of foul places.”
“I understand perfectly. Well, I am glad you are here. It would be nice to have some elevated conversation, for once.”
Dr. Gall smiled. “I agree. I wanted to let you know that I received your schematics for the living engine. I think what you’ve done is brilliant.”
“But it still does not work,” Elswyth said.
Gall frowned. “No. It keeps making far too much gas. It’s more of a bomb than an engine at this point. But alas, we shall continue on. I gave it to Silas to take a look at. He’s not much of a scientist, but the boy has clever ideas.”
Elswyth’s face must have twisted at the mention of Silas.
“Oh, do not worry, Elswyth, the credit is still all yours. But we must work together, if we are to make any progress, don’t you think?”
