She tilted her head, her expression grave. “Is that what your family would have done?”

“Yes.”

“I would never abandon Rowena in such a way, no matter the circumstances. I don’t think my mother would have, either. I don’t remember much about her, as she died before I turned five. After that, I lived in an orphanage until I was ten.”

“And?”

“One day, a very tall and elegantly dressed woman came to the workhouse where we spent our days—”

“Workhouse?” His jaw tightened. He knew something of workhouses, of the brutal treatment that children, especially orphans, received in those places.

“Yes, I worked a loom with two other girls. This woman looked at all of us, as if selecting a horse. When she saw me, she stopped and said, ‘This is the one.’ I was told to pack my few belongings, that I was going ‘home.’ ”

“Who was the woman?”

“Her name was Talaitha Tigani and she was a gypsy.”

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

“No. Her daughter had died at an early age, drowned in a pond. Aunt Talaitha missed having a daughter, so after a few years she picked one. Me.”

“So you became the daughter of a gypsy. It must have been an exciting life, especially after working a loom for hours every day,” Robert said thoughtfully. “That explains why four walls aren’t enough to hold you.”

Moira smiled. “Talaitha taught me everything she knew: how to pick pockets, open locked doors, make charms—”

“And make people believe you were whomever you wished to be.”

“Yes. Especially that.”

It explained so much. “And so you became a Princess Caraboo.” He smiled at the outrage on Moira’s face. Princess Caraboo’s real name was Mary Baker. Several years ago she had appeared on the steps of the house of a magistrate. Because she wore a turban, seemed unable to communicate except in an unrecognized language, and behaved in a number of bizarre ways, it was decided that she was a lost foreigner. People came from miles around, attempting to decipher the mystery.

A jackanapes eager to get involved in the mystery pretended to understand her “language” and interpreted her tale. He told her compassionate hosts that she was a kidnapped princess, stolen away from her homeland by pirates, and that she had escaped their ship and swum to shore. The romantic story made the unknown woman into “Princess Caraboo,” and she was feted until a newspaper ran her story and her description was recognized by several people who knew the real Mary Baker. Caught in her lie, Mary confessed to all. It was a huge embarrassment for her hosts, and she was banished to America.

“Princess Caraboo was an amateur, pretending to be from some made-up country,” Moira scoffed. “I convinced the Russian ambassador that I was a princess from his own country.”

“Thank goodness they have so many.”

“That was a boon. He kept asking for specifics, and I had to put him off repeatedly. Meanwhile more and more members of the ton began to receive me. Eventually it became easier for him to believe the deception, too.”