Her eyes widened. “Was he mean?”

“No. Worse. He is an expert at making one feel guilty.”

Her brow creased. “I don’t understand. Is that bad?”

“Oh, yes, there is nothing worse. Father forced us to discuss literature at the dinner table, and if we hadn’t read his latest ‘suggested’ reading—” Robert shuddered.

Moira chuckled. “It couldn’t be as bad as all that.”

“Oh, it was. He’s a scholar, so our dinners were rife with discussions of the Iliad and Odyssey rather than hunting and horses, which would have been my preference.”

“You couldn’t change the topic?”

“And disappoint Father? No one could look as sad as he could. And he was such a good person that you felt horrid for causing even one sad frown.”

Her eyes twinkled. “I would wager ten quid that you still managed to hold your own.”

He smiled. “You would win that wager. Much to the disgust of my siblings, I worked hard to match my father’s scholarship. I curried his favor more than any of them.”

“Though you didn’t love it?”

“Not at first; it was a childish ploy for approval. But now I’m glad I did it. I find myself still reading those classics, admiring them in new ways. So my father’s evil plan worked—he bred an army of scholars, for we’re all bookish—even William, the sea captain.”

She lifted her brows. “That’s a bit dismissive. It takes a lot of knowledge to sail a ship. You must read charts, understand astronomy, decipher the weather—most of the sea captains I’ve known are extremely capable.”

“I didn’t mean to be disparaging. It’s my brother’s chosen field, so it’s my job to mock it.”

She chuckled. “And does he do the same for you?”

“When he’s not calling me a ‘fop’ and a ‘lace-edged puffin,’ he is quite capable of pulling out a few well-chosen insults, some of them from the bard himself.”

“That will be most useful, since he’s now married to an actress. I once saw Miss Beauchamp perform. She is a remarkable actress.”

“She is, and my brother supports her desire to remain on the stage.”

“He must be very sure of her, for I cannot imagine a career more fraught with illicit invitations.”

“Other than ours? A false princess and a spy?”

She nodded, a shadow crossing her face. “You can get lost, pretending to be someone you’re not.”

“Very true.” He watched her for a moment. “Now that I’ve bared my soul, tell me about your family.”

Her lashes lowered as she regarded her riding boots. “There’s not much to tell. My mother was a mill worker and had me when she was only fifteen. Supposedly, my father was the mill owner’s son. He swore that he’d never touched my mother, though she bore the proof. When my mother’s parents found out she was with child, they threw her out of their house and pretended she’d never been born.”

“Families should stand by one another, through difficulties and triumphs.”