Kitabı oku: «The Outrageous Debutante», sayfa 5

This was no good! Thea knew that she could not remain silent.

‘I have to thank you, my lord.’ Thea raised her eyes to his as they settled into the rhythm of the music. Her colour was a trifle heightened, he noted as dispassionately as he was able, tinting her cheeks a delicious rose, but she was not shy. All he could think about was the sensation of holding her in his arms. He did not want this attraction.

‘Why?’

She was taken aback by this somewhat curt response. And were not his eyes unsettlingly, chillingly grey rather than blue? Perhaps she had simply mistaken it and struggled to find the right words. ‘I am not unaware of the debt I owe you. It would have been most uncomfortable for me if you had revealed the … the circumstances of our previous meeting. You deserve my gratitude, my lord.’

‘It is not necessary.’

And … and I should apologise for my … behaviour towards you,’ she persisted. ‘It was most regrettable.’

‘There is no need.’

‘But I hurt you!’ Her eyes snapped up to his in some confusion. She could not read his expression behind the bland mask. No, she realised, it was not bland but icy with controlled temper. ‘I see the evidence of it on your hand—you cannot deny it.’

‘Very well, then. Yes. You did. Unnecessarily, as it happened. I had no intention of either harming or molesting you, Miss Wooton-Devereux.’

‘I realise that … I should explain.’ She was getting nowhere here. ‘There were circumstances …’ What should she say? She did not wish to bare her soul over the matter of her past experiences, her innermost fears, and certainly not in the centre of a ballroom with a partner who had an amazing effect on her senses and who was less than accommodating to her attempts to make remission. She had apologised and he was totally insensitive to the fact. What could she say? How could she explain? In the event she did not have to.

‘I need no explanation, madam.’ If his eyes froze her, his voice would reduce her to an icicle if she allowed it. ‘You reacted as you saw fit.’ Why did those words have all the air of a snub rather than a soothing offer of forgiveness? She could not be mistaken. There was a cold condemnation in that smooth voice and she did not know what she had done to deserve quite so harsh a judgement. ‘I do not need to know,’ Lord Nicholas continued in preparation for launching the final deadly arrow. ‘But at least you are more conventionally dressed tonight than when we last had the misfortune to meet.’

Any number of sharp replies coming into her mind, Theodora opened her mouth to utter them. Then closed her lips. Since when are you free to comment on what I might or might not wear, my lord? She could not say that aloud, of course—or not here! This was not the time or place to create a scene. The fact that she had indeed been in the wrong ruffled her temper further but she kept a firm hold on it. She smiled, a miracle of control, and chose her words with deadly precision. ‘Yes, I believe that I am, my lord. Everyone who has danced with me has complimented me on my stylish dress à la mode and the appropriateness of this particular creation. Madame Therese is a true artiste, is she not?’

He could not deny the delicate gloss of sarcasm over her words and had the grace to wince a little. But only inwardly.

‘I am delighted that you approve my appearance, my lord. It gives me so much confidence. Without your approval I should be desolate indeed.’ Thea did not let up. But why was he so cold? Perhaps she must accept that, in all truth, being struck by a riding whip would make him so. She had read the contempt in his eyes as their first meeting drew to its unfortunate ending—an infinite quality of disdain—and there was no difference now. But she denied his right to taunt her!

‘I think that you do not lack for confidence, madam.’

A flash of anger darkened her eyes at this lethal sniping. She bit down on any further sharp response. She could not understand the reason for it, but gathered all her social skills about her.

‘Perhaps we should talk of something less controversial, my lord? A ballroom is no place for such a frank exchange of views.’ The smile was still in place. She would keep it there if it killed her!

‘Of course, Miss Wooton-Devereux.’ Nicholas, too, bared his teeth in what could have passed for pleasure if anyone was observing the handsome couple. ‘What do you suggest that we might have in common to discuss?’

Before she could think of anything polite to reply to this challenge, the waltz had drawn to an end and he escorted her with frigid good manners back to where her parents and the Faringdons were ensconced. He bowed to her, and with equal chill to Lady Beatrice. Thea’s hand was soon claimed. She saw Lord Nicholas treading the measure of a country dance further down the set with Judith.

Nicholas made no attempt to approach Thea for the rest of the evening. Theodora made sure that her eyes did not follow him as he danced with other ladies of his acquaintance.

‘Nicholas is quite my favourite cousin,’ Judith observed in a deceptively neutral voice in an interval between dances.

‘Is he?’ Thea studied her dance list intently.

‘And he is so handsome. Do you not agree?’

‘Certainly. I doubt any woman here tonight would disagree.’

Judith gave up, not a little surprised at the lack of interest between them. Nicholas had not set foot near Thea since that one first waltz. But there would be time and enough for them to get to know each other. She would see to it that they did.

Nicholas returned to Faringdon House in a thoroughly bad mood. He was furious with Beatrice. Even after he had warned her off, his aunt had produced a beautiful débutante—he could not deny her lovely face and figure—whom she considered suitable. Suitable? She had no idea! He was also furious with himself for taking out his ill temper on the girl. He might have kept the semblance of good manners, but his comments had been unwarrantable. And he was equally furious with Theodora Wooton-Devereux, whose presence in his arms had left a lasting and most uncomfortable impression on him. He resigned himself to an uneasy night.

Theodora returned to Upper Brook Street equally angry and confused, despite the success of her first public occasion in London. How dare he treat her so! She did not deserve his damning opinions of her or his icy set-downs. And why should he react quite so violently against her? Was he so dull and hidebound that he should condemn her for one social solecism? Well—she did not care! But she determined as she removed the pearl drops from her ears that she would get the better of Lord Nicholas Faringdon!

Chapter Four

Since both Lord Nicholas Faringdon and Miss Theodora WootonDevereux moved in the first circles in London society, it was to be expected that their paths would cross with frequency. And they did. If they had not done so by accident, they would certainly have done so by design. For both Lady Beatrice and the Countess of Painscastle considered Theodora to be a most suitable and enlivening match for their uncooperative relative, and Nicholas an equally desirable husband for so delectable a débutante. The opinion of neither lady nor gentleman was sought.

So they came quite naturally within each other’s orbit at the social events of the Season, whether it be alfresco breakfasts, riverboat parties on the Thames or the more conventional soirées and balls. Unfortunately for those most interested in the match, who watched the pair with keen eyes, it appeared that there would be little chance of his lordship fixing his interest with the lady. For there was a decided edge to their meetings from the very beginning.

‘Lord Nicholas.’ Theodora curtsied and smiled politely upon meeting his lordship as she descended the steps from the Painscastle Town House in Grosvenor Square, closely followed by Judith, two days after Lady Aston’s drum. ‘I had thought you might have returned to the country.’

‘My estate will survive a day or two without my presence.’ He bowed his head unsmilingly.

‘I expect it will.’ She unfurled her parasol with graceful expertise and only mild interest. ‘I understand that the land belongs to your nephew?’

‘Yes. He is the Marquis of Burford.’

‘Tom is hardly more than a baby and lives in New York.’ Judith added the explanation, struck by the unexpectedly stark confrontation.

‘And you administer it, my lord.’

‘I do.’

‘I see. A worthwhile occupation, I expect.’

Lord Nicholas inclined his head. Now, why did he get the impression that she disapproved, that she had judged him as some variety of noxious parasite to live off the wealth and achievement of others? It ruffled him more than he cared to admit. But he strove with perfect success to preserve a courteous and faintly amused expression.

‘Does it not meet with your liking, madam?’

‘I am sure that it is no concern of mine, my lord, how you choose to live your life.’

‘Very true. It is not.’

Accepting the put-down with raised brows, Miss Wooton-Devereux persisted. Of course he was ruffled. She would teach him to look at her with such arrogant superiority! ‘I would have thought a man would want to develop his own land, my lord. Not that of another, however close the relationship with the owner.’

His voice became positively glacial, his eyes a distinct quality of arctic grey. ‘It is a responsibility to my family, and so it is my duty. I am trustee for the estate’s well-being.’ So, she would have the temerity to hold his lifestyle up for criticism, would she? And why was he actually explaining his views to the woman …?

‘Of course.’ Theodora simply angled her head and smiled.

Nicholas felt the muscles in his jaw clench. Was she deliberately baiting him? Surely she was!

Judith leapt into the breach. ‘You should know, Theodora, that Nicholas has his own estate at Aymestry Manor.’

‘Ah.’

‘He breeds horses.’

‘How interesting.’

And although Theodora would have dearly loved to have entered into a discussion of the rival merits of English thoroughbreds against Arab bloodlines, she restrained herself. She would not admit to any similarity of interest with his lordship.

Damn her! Nicholas watched as the two ladies made their way out of the Square. Why should it matter what Miss Wooton-Devereux thought of him?

But it did.

And became increasingly important as the days passed. Although he would have been the first to deny it, Nicholas could not help but be aware of the lady. Not that he approved of her to any degree! Her behaviour was always within the bounds of acceptance—yet not the demure and decorous demeanour to be expected of a débutante. Her appearance was noticeably unconventional with her short hair and striking gowns. She flirted outrageously, showing particular skill in the use of her fan and those miraculously long and thick eyelashes. Not that he had noticed them, of course! She was outspoken to a fault on all manner of subjects, from the politics of the day to the unfortunately corpulent and badly dressed figure presented by the Prince Regent.

When she danced with the highly eligible and extremely rich Earl of Moreton, her mother’s chosen favourite in her plan to find a wealthy, titled husband for her daughter, Nicholas could do nothing but turn his back and invite another lady to partner him. He would not give her the pleasure of seeing him watch her circle the ballroom, however graceful and elegant she might be. He would not. And when his aunt once more invited him to take dear Thea into supper, or partner her in a country dance, he would bow and comply with firm composure as if it were a matter of no possible consequence to take that long-fingered hand in his—or else he would discover an instant excuse for his attendance elsewhere. But he would not single the lady out. He would not give the lady or Lady Beatrice the opportunity to gloat!

But if that were so, why was he still in town? Nicholas refused to consider the implication of such perverse behaviour.

Meanwhile, Thea refused to notice or to be disappointed when his lordship led another pretty débutante into a country dance set. Or failed to put in an appearance at Almack’s when she had chosen to wear a particularly flattering gown of emerald silk overlaid with silver-grey lace. Instead, she took every opportunity to be deliberately provocative—a task that she found surprisingly easy. Quite as effortless as Lord Nicholas in taking her to task for her somewhat slighting remark on the overbearing tactics of the Duke of Wellington in the government of the day.

‘Is that your own opinion, madam? Or that of Sir Hector?’ Unable to ignore her in so small a gathering, Nicholas handed her a glass of champagne at Lady Beatrice’s small soirée, his expression one of distinct disapproval.

‘My own, of course.’ Thea sipped the golden bubbles with a little smile.

‘I did not realise that your interests stretched to politics, Miss Wooton-Devereux.’

‘And should they not?’

‘It is not always to be expected in a débutante.’

‘It is important to be well informed, I believe.’

Lord Nicholas merely observed her without reply, one brow lifted a fraction of an inch.

Well! She could not allow so negative and patronising a response go unanswered!

‘Can it be that you are criticising my upbringing and education, my lord?’ Thea’s brows rose in delicate arcs. She watched him over the rim of her glass.

‘I would not be so bold, ma’am.’

‘My upbringing has been impeccable,’ the lady informed him, ‘according to the advanced ideas of the philosopher Rousseau. And as advocated by Maria Edgeworth, no less, in her Practical Education.’

‘I can well believe it.’

‘It is essential,’ continued the lady, ‘that every child and thus every adult be treated as an individual to develop his or her innate talents and abilities.’

‘Most estimable, to be sure.’

‘Thus I would consider it necessary that every intelligent woman be aware of the policies of our government and the political figures who influence them. Which makes me free to be critical if I find the Duke’s approach not to my taste.’

‘As I would agree.’ Nicholas smiled with all the friendliness of a kestrel eyeing a tasty mouse. ‘But even Rousseau considered the opinions of the female sex to be far inferior to those of the male.’ He raised his glass in a little toast and drank from it. ‘I am certain that, educated as you are, you see the force of my argument.’

‘No! I do not, my lord!’ Thea felt a warmth of colour touch her cheek at his underhand tactics.

‘Now, why did I think that would be your answer?’

Which left Theodora without a parting shot.

And gave Lord Nicholas a degree of satisfaction.

But within the third week of their distinctly uneasy acquaintance, there was a particular development in the nature of their relationship, a strange little event that gave both lady and gentleman much to consider. As Nicholas drove his curricle through the city, having visited his bank, he spied a familiar female figure. There, standing on the pavement, on the corner of Chancery Lane and Fleet Street, was a lady whom he could not possibly mistake. She held her reticule, gloves and parasol in one hand, and a guide book, compiled for those travellers who might wish to enjoy the sights of London, open in the other. She was clearly oblivious to the small crowd of urchins and undesirables who had gathered, attracted by her obvious wealth and her unaccompanied state.

He drew in his horses beside her, a heavy frown apparent.

She looked up, a delightful picture in a gauze and satin straw bonnet, but her words did not hold the same charm.

‘Do not say anything, my lord!’

So he obligingly did not, but made no attempt to hide his disapproval of her unchaperoned situation in the City as he held his matched chestnuts under firm control. What was she thinking! The fact that her presence here had caused him a ripple of concern for her safety was rapidly discarded.

‘I am lost,’ Thea snapped. Of all people, why did it have to be Lord Nicholas Faringdon to drive past, to look down his arrogant—if beautiful—nose at her as if she were a beetle in his path? ‘I should not be here—and certainly not unchaperoned. I should have a maid with me. I should not be drawing attention to myself. Anything else, my lord?’

She had read him to perfection. He suppressed any sign of wry amusement, so his reply was cold and curt.

‘I cannot think of anything at the moment. You appear to have covered every aspect of this unfortunate situation.’

He dismounted, handing the reins to the groom, his expression not pleasant at the inconvenience. ‘I think I should return you to your family, ma’am.’

‘Why should you? I would much rather go to St Paul’s.’

Without a word he held out his hand and, when she complied—she could hardly do other in this busy street—helped her up into the curricle.

‘And why are you without your maid?’ Nicholas took his seat and the reins again, and the chestnuts stepped out with well-bred conformation.

‘Agnes is not well. A cold. It would be more than cruel of me to drag her on a sightseeing expedition.’ Theodora set her teeth, determined to remain composed. How like him to question her behaviour!

‘Would not my cousin accompany you if you were intent on exploring?’

‘Judith had other engagements.’ Her tone became noticeably more clipped.

‘You are too cavalier, ma’am. Do you have no regard for convention? What will people think? You cannot afford to set up the backs of those who are too quick to damn a lady’s reputation. The town tabbies are quick to gossip.’

‘Really?’ With his concentration on the traffic, he did not see the angry glint in that lady’s eyes. ‘I know you disapprove of me, my lord.’ She had given up any pretence at mild conversation. ‘How can I spend my life worrying about what people think?’

‘That may be all very well in the deserts of Syria or wherever you spent your formative years, with females such as Hester Stanhope setting herself up as the Queen of the Desert or some such nonsensical thing, but I fear it will not do here.’

‘This is not Syria!’

‘I am aware. But walking alone through the city? It is not appropriate, Miss Wooton-Devereux. As you well know.’

And she did—more than aware of the stark comments of Lady Drusilla if it ever came to her ears, which stirred her wrath even further. Without considering her words, she directed that wrath at Lord Nicholas. ‘How dull life would be if I worried constantly about the possibility of getting lost.’ She was soon in her stride, his reprimand a light to dry tinder. ‘How restricting and tedious if I did nothing in the chance that I became the object of social condemnation. If I stayed at home because I feared to suffer an injury, or was captured by a band of robbers who …’ Her words dried up. A stricken look on her face, Thea closed her mouth firmly and looked away so that he might not see her heightened colour.

Ah! So that was it!

Nicholas waited in silence, steering the chestnuts around a large wagon that had come to a halt in the street. He would give her time to regain her composure. He had heard the note of distress, hastily suppressed.

It worked. As the chestnuts settled again into an easy trot, Thea did not return to the dangerous topic, choosing something mildly innocuous, but continued placidly enough. ‘It was such a lovely morning, it was impossible not to take advantage of it …’

So she will not talk of it. But it distressed her considerably. Nicholas immediately pulled his horses to a standstill against the curb, to her surprise.

‘Thea …’ He touched her hand, which held tightly to her parasol, her fingers white against the ivory of the handle. ‘Is that what happened to you?’ If it drew their attention to hear her given name on his lips, neither of them gave any sign.

‘I should not have spoken.’

‘Why not? Is that why you reacted as you did in the Park, the day you struck out at me? Had you been accosted by robbers?’

‘I do not wish to speak of it.’ She shook her head, would not look at him.

‘Will you not tell me what happened?’

‘I cannot. I won’t talk about it.’ There was real distress now, in her voice and in her face.

‘Very well. I cannot force you. And would not wish to give you more cause for pain.’ His voice was low, soothing. ‘But if you ever wish to, I will listen.’

Ignoring their very public surroundings, Lord Nicholas took possession of her hand, to lift it to his lips.

‘I am grateful.’ Her hand was as cold as ice and just as rigid as it lay in his. A strained silence developed that Thea would not—or could not—break. She had not expected such compassion from him. Just as he had not expected such an admission from her.

Eventually she risked a glance at him, seeing nothing but warmth and sympathy replacing the harsh condemnation in his eyes. It drew from her an instant need to apologise. ‘I am nothing like Lady Stanhope!’

‘No.’ He could not stop the smile.

‘I would never do anything so outrageous as to wear male clothing and take a lover in the desert! Well, not often—the clothing, that is!’

‘Of course not.’

‘I am sorry if I was impolite.’

‘I must admit that you were under extreme provocation.’

‘Are you laughing at me?’ She sighed as she saw the telltale curve of his lips. ‘Yes, I was provoked—but I am grateful for the rescue. I knew that I was in the wrong.’

‘Such an admission makes me think that you are more distressed than I had believed!’ It roused a chuckle from her, which pleased him. ‘It gave me pleasure to be of service to you on so beautiful a day.’

There was a tone in his voice that Thea could not quite interpret, forcing her to look up. And then she could not look away. Equally held in the moment, Lord Nicholas raised her hand again to press his lips to her fingers, a distinct pressure, far more than a formal salute. And lingered a little until a polite cough from his groom caught his attention.

‘Some interested parties around, m’lord.’

Which brought him back to the fact that they were indeed in a very public street, which was no place to be drowning in the depths of a pair of sparkling sapphire eyes. Or enjoying the touch of silken skin. He laughed softly, perhaps to dispel his astonishment in being driven to such indecorous behaviour. But he did not let go of her hand.

‘Will you take me home then, my lord?’ Thea was as much held by the moment as he.

‘Why, no.’ He released her to pick up the reins again. ‘I think that we go on to St Paul’s. What do you say, Theodora?’

He was rewarded with the faintest hint of a smile, as if the lady had come to a momentous decision. As perhaps she had. ‘I should like that above all things. How kind you are.’

It warmed his heart.

Which little episode led to a subtle change in their response towards each other. Theodora was nothing at all like the lady whom Lord Nicholas might consider setting up as his latest flirt. He was uneasy about his reactions to her, whereas Theodora still smarted under his stern gaze and disapproving demeanour.

But each was drawn to the other as a moth to a fatal flame.

It became an accustomed sight, giving Lady Beatrice a blaze of triumph, to see the beautiful Miss Wooton-Devereux partnering the splendid Lord Nicholas Faringdon in the waltz. He was seen to invite the lady to drive with him in Hyde Park at five o’clock, the hour of the fashionable promenade. He even volunteered his services to squire the ladies to Almack’s, giving the Earl of Painscastle reason to comment that he must be a lost cause indeed. But Lord Nicholas shook his head, admitting to himself that he was in a serious state of indecision. Yes, the lady was beautiful, interesting, intelligent—but equally outspoken, argumentative and opinionated. Not to mention given to unreliable quirks of behaviour that might make her the talk of the drawing rooms. But there again, when she walked into the room, the very quality of the air that he breathed seemed to change. He found himself entirely captivated …

Theodora was equally preoccupied, her eyes quickly scanning any room to note if he were present. And if she saw his tall figure, his dark hair, her evening took on a glow of its own. If he did not put in an appearance, the event, no matter how entertaining, was distinctly flat. She took to noticing his strong but fine-fingered hands as they controlled the reins of his high-spirited horses. The firm strength of his arm when he held her close against him in the waltz. The elegant grace when he presented her with a posy of flowers or held her reticule as she unfurled her parasol. The power of his body when he took her hand to help her take her place in the high-perch phaeton that he sometimes drove with such masterly skill. The sheer magnetism of his presence when their eyes met and neither could look away. A sad case, she decided, as delicious shivers fluttered over her skin. They were drawn to each other whether she wished it or not. She found him kind, generous, with a depth of compassion—despite his somewhat over-bearing personality and his liking to get his own way!

And if it was becoming clear to Theodora, it was becoming equally evident to Lady Drusilla that Lord Nicholas was winning a place in her daughter’s usually sensible heart. When Drusilla frowned her disapproval at Thea’s standing up with his lordship for the second time in an evening, it had absolutely no effect on her wayward offspring. And when Drusilla smiled her agreement to Thea’s accepting an innocent invitation to drive in Hyde Park with Judith, there was little she could do when she discovered that Lord Nicholas was also to be included in the invitation. Furthermore, it was patently clear that the undoubted charms of the wealthy Earl of Moreton were no competition at all against the dark good looks and dashing grace of Lord Nicholas Faringdon.

Had Lady Drusilla but known it, the matter had progressed much further than even she had believed. Lord Nicholas had organised an evening of entertainment and pleasure at Vauxhall Gardens in the form of a masked supper for family and close friends. There would be music and dancing, of course, with an orchestra to play works by Handel in the concert hall during supper. A simple enough meal with champagne and punch and the specialities of the Gardens—cold chicken and wafer-thin slices of ham, all partaken in a private supper box, hired for the occasion. A most tasteful and unexceptional occasion.

Thea was both amused and entranced, never before having visited Vauxhall with its exotic attractions. She declared the enticing groves, the maze of secluded alleys and the secret arbours and grottoes to have great charm.

‘The darkness lends enchantment, I fear.’ Lord Nicholas smiled at her obvious enjoyment. And her delectable appearance. Her gown was covered by a shimmering domino of silver silk tissue, a matching silver mask covering her face, but with no pretence at disguise. Nor for Lord Nicholas, his evening rig cloaked in severe and elegant black.

‘You are too cynical, sir. And superior. I like it very well. It reminds me of one of Mrs Radcliffe’s Gothic novels. All the caves and waterfalls. I have never seen so many temples and pavilions and rotundas, all in one place, in my life. Even you must admit to the lamps in the trees being very pretty, my lord.’

‘I will admit nothing.’

‘I suppose that you prefer the rustic and natural delights of your manor at Aymestry.’ Thea angled a glance in arched enquiry, having heard something of the delights of Lord Nicholas’s home.

‘Perhaps I do.’

‘I would wish to see it.’ Her gaze within its silver frame remained steady on his.

‘And I would wish to show it to you.’ A little silence lengthened between them, until Nicholas took himself in hand. ‘But that aside, the lights here hide a multitude of sins.’

‘Perhaps. But I will not allow you to spoil the evening by drawing attention to it!’

He hesitated again, the length of a breath. ‘I would not wish to do so. That would never be my intent.’

‘I know it.’ And although she spread her fan with a flirtatious turn of her wrist, he could not mistake the solemn appraisal in her eyes, before she turned to answer a query from Lady Beatrice, formidable if incongruous in her deep purple domino.

After supper the younger members of the party dispersed to stroll down the lamp-lit walks, assuring Lady Beatrice and a reluctant Lady Drusilla that they would most certainly remain within sight and sound of Agnes Drew, their designated chaperon for the occasion. But it was clearly destined for Lord Nicholas to draw Miss Wooton-Devereux’s hand through his arm, just as it was astonishingly easy for them to lose their companions in the deeply shadowed pathways.

‘Which do you prefer, lady. Dark Walk or Druids Walk?’ he enquired as they came to a parting of the ways.

‘Definitely Druids. Do you think we might see some after all these hundreds of years? Lurking in the groves of Vauxhall with their oak leaves and mistletoe.’

‘I doubt it—but let us try.’ He guided her along the appropriate path.

‘But we may hear nightingales, I expect.’ She slanted a look.

‘I have arranged it specially for you, lady.’

He sensed her smile in the darkness. They strolled in silence for some little way.

‘It appears that we have lost our companions,’ Theodora commented.

‘So it would seem.’ Nicholas came to a halt and turned to face her. ‘Your mama would not approve.’

‘No. She would not.’ It did not seem to trouble Theodora unduly.

The night enclosed them in deep silence, the scents of earth and flowers, soft but intense. Every sense was heightened. Nicholas could catch the perfume that Theodora wore, was supremely aware of the light touch of her fingers on his arm. When he raised a hand to loosen the strings of her mask she made no resistance.