Her parents had taken her to London for her come-out when she was eighteen. Although not wealthy, Mr. Wells was accepted unquestioningly by the ton; Margaret, therefore, had soon been caught up in the whirl of balls, routs, soirees, and other entertainments with which the ton occupied their time. And she had loved every moment of it. Although her public image was the quiet one which she had been trained to project, she had not lacked either for female friends or for male admirers. She had not exactly taken the ton by storm, but her trim little figure, her heart-shaped face with the large, quiet gray eyes framed by long, dark lashes, and her sweet mouth had made her a pleasing attraction.

That had all been before the night of the Hetheringtons' masquerade ball, two months after her come-out. The chance to attend a masquerade was rare; the regular masquerade balls held at the opera house were considered unsuitable for the girls of the ton. They were noisy, rather ribald affairs. Consequently, invitations to the Hetheringtons' ball had been coveted and the event had developed into a great squeeze. Fortunately, the day had been unseasonably warm for April. The garden had been decked with lanterns so that the crowd had been able to spill out into the outdoors away from the stuffy ballroom.

Margaret had been dressed as Marie Antoinette, her wide-skirted silver dress and powdered wig hired for the occasion, a silver mask covering her whole face except her eyes, mouth, and jawline. She had been excited. Somehow, knowing that she was disguised almost beyond recognition, she had felt as if she could throw away the restraints that were normally second nature to her. She had danced and laughed and talked, lowering the tone of her voice and assuming a French accent. Her behavior had become even more animated when she had realized that both her mother and her father had disappeared into the card room.