The North Sea House: a gothic romance

by Camille Oster

"Finding hidden rooms and searching for long-lost treasures?"

  "Not lost anymore."

  Moving closer, he gently reached for her hand and she let him. It was an intimate touch, and not one she wished to back away from. Her heart beat powerfully in her chest and she looked up at him. It was too dark, really, to see his eyes.

  "I think you are quite extraordinary."

  A blush would burn furiously on her cheeks if it was light enough to see. It was hard to keep his gaze with such a compliment. She didn't know what to say. But saying was not on his mind as he reached down and kissed her again.

  Soft lips met hers. Not as soft as before, now more urgent. His body moved closer and she felt him to her as the kiss deepened. The teasing touch of the tip of his tongue running down the seam of her lips. The feeling was so curious, spreading heat and want throughout her body.

  His shoulder was firm and under her hand and she felt her breasts flatten to his chest. This was the kind of kiss she had dreamed of, and she couldn't believe it was happening, and that it felt so much more compelling than she'd ever imagined.

  Carefully, she opened her mouth and his tongue snuck into her mouth, stroking hers. It was the most decadent feeling she'd ever experienced. This was forbidden in every sense, but she couldn't bring herself to stop—didn't want to stop.

  Her pulse flared deep inside her, down close to where his hand pressed into the small of her back. They were standing so very close—she could feel all of him.

  His other hand slipped behind her neck and held her closer. It felt as though he was consuming her, taking more of her. In fact, at that moment, she didn't entirely object to him having all of her, this intimacy she should be guarding herself against.

  A deep moan escaped his throat and his tongue stroked deeper inside her. Then abruptly he pulled away. Her lips felt bruised, the sensation of the kiss refusing to clear. Her heart beat so heavily she felt it throughout her body. Her womanly area throbbing.

  It was peculiar that her body reacted this way. In her heart, she knew this was desire. She desired him.

  His fingers reached up to her shoulder and traced down her sleeve and then the bare skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Her nipples were hard and straining against the material of her dress, and she wanted him to touch her there. Deep breaths and the constricting material of her dress teased the hard nubs of her breasts even more.

  Her body had never felt this alive. It was so sweet. She couldn't imagine what it was like to lie with a man, but she wanted to know.

  Slowly, he shifted closer again and with her lips, she reached for his as they descended, eager to submerge herself again into these compelling kisses. Sweetness spread like molasses through her mind and her body, stealing away every thought. That heat surged again—the desire for him. Her body pressed more firmly to his, wanting more.

  Again he broke the kiss and stepped firmly away, sighing deeply. How she wished that there was light enough that she could see his eyes, but she had no idea what he was thinking. "You have me very disturbed," he finally said.

  "Yes," she replied. She could only agree as her whole body thrummed with her pulse and the ferocious tension they'd unveiled.

  "We must part, I think," he said with another shuddering sigh. "I'm not sure we can be utterly trusted in a dark corridor."

  She didn't want to part, but she recognized the danger there, because she would be driven to let this go much further than it had. It was something she knew in her bones. "Yes," she agreed and hurried away before that desire changed her mind for her.

  Chapter 27

  VIVIENNE SIGHED AS SHE remembered the kiss from the night before. It had been a revelation. Reacting so strongly to it, she might have to concede that she was in love with Brynnell—Lord Routledge. And from what she could tell, he might just be in love with her too, because how could he elicit such a kiss if he wasn't? She wasn't sure that was possible.

  Sun shone outside the window and for a moment, she didn't care about the ominous feeling in the house, or the overt entitlement of Mrs. Bollingworth. Sophie's belief that her interest in Brynnell took precedence over any other did weight on her more, but it wasn't as if Vivienne was forcing his interest or demanding his attention. He liked her and that had to mean something too. Was he not allowed to like her because Sophie wanted to marry him? The human heart didn't comply with the wishes of others.

  For a moment, she watched the constant undulation of the sea and ignored the bored chatting behind her. She'd been pleased that morning to see that her feet were unmarred from any wandering the night before. Perhaps it was a short-lived phase that had passed, just the disturbance of being away from home. Not that this was the first time she'd visited another house, but none had struck her the way this one did.

  It would be over soon. A few more days and they would leave, and she wasn't entirely sure she would accept another invitation to come stay in Archie's new estate. As much as she liked Archie, this week had been terribly trying on her nerves.

  Returning to the sofa area, she sat down next to Mrs. Dartmoor. Horace sat and read. It was Sunday and instead of holding a service, Mr. Bollingworth had offered to conduct prayers for Archie, least of all to Archie's amusement. But they were upstairs in his bedroom that very moment, praying for his speedy restitution.

  "It was very kind of Mr. Bollingworth to offer to lead a prayer for Mr. Percival," Mrs. Dartmoor said to Mrs. Bollingworth, who was knitting.

  Sophie was annoyed by the constant clicking of the woman's knitting needles and she paced back and forth behind the sofa. "The one day they're not out there digging mud and they're all squirreled away upstairs. I do wish we could get out of the house, go for a picnic or something," she said.

  Vivienne couldn't imagine this was the place for picnics with the constant wind, but she did understand Sophie's restlessness. "How about we go for a walk, you and I?"

  "I suppose we'd better now as the weather is somewhat pleasant. It turns so quickly that we might not get a chance later. Mr. Jenkins, would you be so kind as to get our coats."

  They walked to the main hall and waited for Mr. Jenkins to return. Sophie turned to her. "Although I don't think anyone will argue that the sooner they clear that slip, the better for everyone. Certainly won't be a house party Archie will ever forget. I doubt he'll invite people to his house again. Although the Bollingworths weren't strictly invited, were they? They invited themselves. Hopefully this week will scare them off for good."

  "Yes," Vivienne said absently as she accepted Mr. Jenkins assistance with her coat.

  The wind blustered outside.

  "Hardly worth doing anything to your hair if you're going for a walk here. It just about rips your pins out. If I lived here, I should never go outside," Sophie said and it was even worse as they got around the corner.

  "It is beautiful, though," Vivienne said. The sea was spectacular and it struck her every time she was near it—like a lion or some dangerous beast, just being kept at bay by the cliffs they were now walking toward. During the storm though, it almost felt as if those barriers would give and they would be taken.

  But it was sheer beauty. The many shades of the sea and the green and brown vegetation along the cliffs. The grays of the stone beaches far down below. It would be the kind of place a painter would never grow tired of.

  Birds did strange dances in the sky, using and challenging the wind, and settled into their nests along the cliffs. They squawked and screamed. The same wind that tore at their skirts when it blustered, sometimes making it hard to walk.

  They walked away from the house over to the peninsula from where they could see the fishing village further along the coast.

  "We really are hemmed in. Couldn't even get down to a boat," Sophie said. "It's quite disconcerting knowing we simply cannot leave."

  "One could traverse the slip if one absolutely had to, but it would be dangerous."

  Clive had done it, risking life and limb if the slip had proven unsteady, and he'd clam
bered back across it again. No arguing he was a brave boy.

  "Oh look who moves quickly," Sophie said tartly and Vivienne had no idea what she was referring to. "Onto Mrs. Dartmoor now. I told you his interest was fleeting."

  Vivienne followed Sophie's gaze to where two figures were walking in the distance. Even from there, she could see that it was Brynnell, and apparently Mrs. Dartmoor. Vivienne frowned. Sophie had said no such thing that his interest was fleeting.

  "Whispering sweet nothings in her ear," Sophie continued and crossed her arms.

  "They are merely walking together."

  "Walking with my companion. She has a job to do, not including wandering around with bachelors. He's quite notorious for it, you know. Positively toys with ladies’ affections, then moves on without a glance backward. There’s something quite venomous about it."

  Vivienne could only stare. That couldn't be true, could it? Had she just let herself be used by a bounder? Last night, she'd let him kiss her in the most inappropriate way. Looking away, she felt her cheeks burn. Had she done something very stupid? Let a lecher get away with his vile games? No, she refused to believe it. It hadn't felt that way. "I'm sure it's perfectly innocent."

  Sophie snorted. "I don't think he understands the concept of innocence. Poor Viv. You actually believed his interest meant something. It was quite heartless of him. Wicked man."

  The words hurt, but Sophie sounded sincere.

  "You simply are too innocent," Sophie concluded. "And you fall prey to these men who use you to stroke their own egos. Believe me, they all do it."

  Vivienne didn't want to speak about it. If he was such a lech, why had Sophie been so intent on catching his attention before? Was this how she justified his lack of attention? In saying that he lost interest the moment he had a lady's attention? Or it could be that what she was saying was true. It wasn't something Vivienne had heard about him, but that didn't mean it wasn't true. He could be the biggest rogue in London and she'd simply never heard about it.

  Surely John would have warned her if that were the case. Right now, she didn't know who to trust. Either her own intuition was deceiving her, or Sophie was. For what purpose, though? Brynnell was simply walking with Mrs. Dartmoor.

  Either way, the light and bubbly feeling she'd woken up with that morning had entirely evaporated. Now there was only questions and suspicion.

  Would Sophie really be cruel enough to say such a thing out of spite? But then Sophie didn't know they had kissed last night. No one knew—unless Brynnell had told people. John would definitely inform her if that were the case. Might even defend her honor if such an accusation was directed at her.

  No, she had been foolish. If he proved untrue, it would force her brother to defend her honor, against an experienced soldier.

  "If we weren't all trapped here, I'd fire that woman. I knew from the moment she arrived that there was something grasping about her. Probably isn't a real widow. People lie about such things to get good positions as companions and governesses, you know."

  "I'm sure she's not lying," Vivienne said. Sophie had a tendency to let her spite run away with her, and she sincerely hoped that was the case with Brynnell. It would be awful if her faith in him proved untrue.

  With a deep sigh, she steeled herself. It seemed the only good things that happened in this place just slipped through her fingers and this was yet another thing she had to worry about. At least they hadn't been observed. But she had been careless and stupid to let such a thing develop between them. It had just been so exciting, so compelling. Surely a bounder would not make her feel that way—but perhaps they did and it was why young women got themselves into compromising positions.

  It could not happen again. She had to be more careful, if not for her own sake, then for John's. Still, she hoped that Sophie's implied accusations were untrue and grounded in her own bitterness at not securing Byrnnell's interest. It would hurt a great deal if these accusations were true.

  Chapter 28

  WHILE THE MOOD AMONGST the diners that evening was lighter now that Archie was firmly recovering, Vivienne couldn't shake the morose feeling that had come over her with Sophie's words. Like Sophie, she now watched both Brynnell and Mrs. Dartmoor intensely, but wished she'd stop. Doubting like this wasn't doing her any good and she should stop. Brynnell hadn't done anything wrong, but once planted, that suspicion was hard to shake.

  Sophie was, if anything, more animated—even flirtatious.

  "So, do tell us more about your background, Mrs. Dartmoor," Sophie said, showing an interest in her companion that hadn't existed before. Vivienne felt sorry for her, because she knew Sophie's interest was not stemming from a desire to be kind.

  "Well," Mrs. Dartmoor. "I had a previous position as a companion to an elderly lady. It was short lived."

  "Found you unsatisfactory?" Sophie queries. "I do believe you had references when you applied to this position."

  This was skirting into quite unpolite conversation during dinner, but no one said anything.

  "No, she was lovely, but unfortunately she was elderly, and as everyone does in the end, she died. It was her son that gave me a reference, which was very kind of him."

  "Kind indeed," Sophie said, clearly disappointed with the lack of salaciousness. "And you wish to marry again, I take it."

  "Sophie," Vivienne said, trying to protest.

  "It's a perfectly understandable question. Some widows don't wish to marry again." Sophie turned back expectantly.

  "I don't know," Mrs. Dartmoor said. "If I should feel inclined to, I suppose."

  "Well, as exciting as your plans are, Mrs. Dartmoor, I was hoping to see our dear host tonight," Lewis cut in, clearly in the mood to rescue the woman under Sophie's scrutiny, or simply bored of the topic. "I understand his recovery is progressing."

  "Yes," John said, "and he sends his condolences for not being able to dine with us tonight."

  "Perhaps tomorrow night, then. Unless the slip magically disappears and we all scurry on our way tomorrow."

  "One can only hope," Sophie said tartly.

  "I've had some interesting thoughts about the garden," Horace said and continued by mentioning a string of botanical names no one had any idea about. Relishing the topic he went on at some length, but it would be rude to interrupt him.

  "I'm sure Archie will be tickled pink," Lewis finally said.

  "Of course, when the road is clear again," Mrs. Bollingworth said, speaking for the first time that night. "We will have to call in an investigator to get to the bottom of all the curious events in this house."

  The statement lowered the mood around the table.

  "That horrid woman downstairs will, of course, have an opportunity to flee, which I'm sure she'll do at the earliest opportunity," she continued. "Might kill us all before she leaves."

  "I'm sure if that was her intent," Brynnell said, "she would have done it by now."

  It wasn't a lie to say the food was declining in quality and quantity, but that was probably a reflection of the declining stores than any nefarious intent by Mrs. Sims.

  "Perhaps the women can now retire to the salon?" Lewis suggested. The women started to rise and make their way to the salon, while the men had their port and pipes. Although Brynnell seemed to prefer cheroots. Even now, Vivienne felt ill at ease, unable to completely stop herself from watching for some sign of affection between Mrs. Dartmoor and Lord Routledge.

  "My, we make a handsome party, don't we? Don't you think so, Mrs. Dartmoor?" Sophie said as they made their way out of the dining room.

  "Yes, of course."

  "Particularly our handsome Lord Routledge."

  They sat for a while, waiting until Mr. Jenkins had served the port, so he could come serve them. None of them had particularly much to say and it was an awkward night.

  “Are you accustomed to walking with gentlemen?” Sophie finally asked Mrs. Dartmoor. “Seems an odd habit for a companion.”

  A flush spread up Mrs. Dartmoor's c
heeks, probably realizing Sophie's was now needling after they had walked together this afternoon. "My husband was a soldier," Mrs. Dartmoor finally said and Sophie shrugged as if the statement meant nothing to her.

  "As soldiers, we have an obligation to see to the welfare of the families of our fallen comrades," Brynnell stated, appearing in the salon doorway.

  "And is there something remiss with your welfare? I hadn't realized being in my employ was such a burden." Sophie had the habit of twisting things to suit herself.

  "That is very kind of you," Vivienne said to Brynnell. "Very conscientious."

  "Merely my duty," he said. The others were wandering into the salon as well.

  "And I am perfectly well," Mrs. Dartmoor interjected.

  Sophie's whole intent that evening was tiring and Vivienne didn't want to be a part of it. "I might retire. I have a bit of a headache, I find."

  The men nodded to her as she did and she left the room, feeling her shoulders relax when she was out of the tension that had filled the evening. In truth, the last few days. It was as though it was all catching up with her and she needed to be alone.

  The darkness and quiet of the house felt comforting for once and she knew the way to her room without question. Her room was dark and the fire hadn't been lit, so she remedied those things before closing the door. John would arrive at some point.

  Over by the window, the sea undulated like black ink, at times forming white peaks of foam that were clearly visible. The moon cast a ghostly reflection across the water. She watched it for a moment before undressing and preparing herself for bed.

  "Hey, Viv," John said as his head popped in the door after a quick knock. "Are you alright? You looked a little drawn at supper."

  "I'm just tired from all the tension lately."

  "This has been the most curious house party, hasn't it? Murder attempts and storms. I am going to stay with Archie again tonight. Brynnell is still worried."

  "Of course."

  "Anyway, I'll lock the door in case… you know."