Lydia, now twenty-six, six years his junior, had always been the quieter, the more reserved, the steadier and more reliable. Tab, it seemed, had become something of a female version of himself, a notorious and dangerous hellion, at least as far as the ton was concerned.

But what neither sister was, was weak.

He reached for the roast beef. “This letter-who has it, what’s in it that makes it a threat to Tab, and why are you here trying to retrieve it, rather than she?”

Lydia’s lips tightened fractionally, but she drew breath and replied, “The letter was one Tab wrote years ago, when she was seventeen.” She paused, her eyes searching his, then went on. “You remember Tab-you know what she’s like. How she throws herself into things, heart and soul, and the devil be damned?”

Reaching for his goblet, Ro nodded.

“Well, before she became a bluestocking propounding women’s rights, and especially our right not to wed…” She hesitated.

He finished for her. “She was seventeen-she fell in love.” Recalling Tabitha, nothing was more certain.

Lydia nodded. “Exactly. And she wrote to the gentleman involved, and being Tabitha, she wrote unrestrainedly. Without exercising the least discretion, and with an enthusiasm that…” She drew in a short breath. “Well, suffice it to say that if the contents of that letter became widely known now, she’d be the laughingstock of the ton.”

Ro raised his brows. “That bad?”

Lydia grimaced. “Actually, it’s worse. She’d be shunned by all her friends-the other women who think like her, and all that circle.” She paused, then added, “That’s her life now, and effectively, because of this letter, she stands on the brink of ruin.”

Ro frowned, toyed with a portion of beef. “Why, after-what, eight years?-has this letter surfaced now?”

“Because Tab remembered it, and asked for it back.”