Read Online House of Dark Delights by Louisa Burton - Free Book Online

“When it comes to lovers, I’ll take a devil over an angel any day.”
    â€œIt’s not just that,” Lili said. “There’s his smell. He smells…wrong somehow.”
    â€œBah!” Charlotte scoffed. “There’s nothing foul about his smell. Now, Bubb Doddington, there’s a ripe one. Would you rather have that great, rancid bladder of lard huffing and puffing on top of you?”
    â€œI wouldn’t say
foul,
exactly,” Lili said. “’Tis subtle, to be sure, but Lord Turek smells almost…metallic, but in a slightly dank way. Like a handful of copper pennies.”
    â€œI know what you mean,” Elle said. “I’ve smelled it, too.”
    So had Darius, now that he thought about it. It
was
subtle, but his feline nose was sensitive, especially to certain smells.
    It wasn’t copper pennies. It was blood.
    â€œWell, Lili,” Charlotte said, “it would appear you’re to be spared your lovelorn swain’s attentions, at least for tonight. Frankly, I cannot imagine why Elic even wanted to take his place, given the reams of Latin he’s had to memorize between then and now.”
    â€œMy brother relishes new experiences,” Elle said—a disingenuous statement, for what Elic truly relished, with compulsive zeal, was the transference of seed from an exemplary male to an equally superior female. As Abbot of the Day, he would have his pick, following tonight’s mass, of the beautiful, well-bred adventuresses who kept company with the Hellfires.
    Charlotte said, “Turek was quite the rusty-guts when he found out that he would not be serving as Abbot of the Day. He took it like a gentleman, of course—in front of Sir Francis—but he gave me an earful in private last night. He was snarling, sputtering, raving like a bedlamite. Went on and on about how irregular it was, how Elic’s only just become a member of the order, and a rank-and-file member, at that, how he shouldn’t even be permitted to observe the mass, much less officiate. Of course, it’s not really the lack of propriety that got to him. It’s knowing he won’t get to bang our dear Lili until the next
missa niger,
which will have to wait till Sir Francis can find a proper venue for it.”
    â€œWith any luck,” Lili said, “that will take a good long while.”
    â€œWhat an unusual accent, Lili,” said Elle. “If you don’t mind my asking, where are you from?”
    â€œThe Ottoman Empire.”
    â€œYou are Persian, then?” Elle asked.
    â€œGood heavens, no,” Lili said. “At one time, my homeland was under Persian rule, but I’ve no Persian blood in me.”
    â€œLili likes to cultivate an air of mystery,” Charlotte said, gazing about the room as if in search of more diverting company, “the better to ingratiate herself with Sir Francis. Ah. Speak of the devil.”
    The gentleman who’d just entered from the anteroom to the chapel was built like a shoulder of mutton, with genial good looks and an appealing smile. His dark hair—his own, not a wig—was unbound, his attire surprisingly plain and dignified. He sat at the table to confer with Lord Sandwich. Training his ears on the conversation, Darius heard him say, “Mrs. Hayes finally brought the vestals, I see.”
    â€œYes, indeed,” replied Sandwich as he offered his snuffbox to Dashwood. “And a fetching lot they are.”
    â€œWhat sort of gentleman is Sir Francis?” Elle asked, although Darius happened to know that she—or rather, Elic—had taken the waters with Dashwood that very afternoon, along with Inigo, Archer, Charlotte, and Lord Sandwich.
    Lili said, “He is quite charming, really—witty, engaging, admired by everyone who knows him. And very accomplished—a patron of the arts and one of King George’s inner circle. An unabashed libertine, of course, and