And with that, Ro saw it all. “The gentleman being Stephen Barham, now Lord Alconbury of Upton Grange.”

Lydia stilled. She held his gaze for a long moment, then reached, slowly, for a grape. “Why do you think that?” She plucked a grape, popped it into her mouth, and studied him, trying to look innocent while she chewed.

Ro smiled-not humorously. “Because Barham is a regular at Lucifer’s, because Addison often tries to ingratiate himself with that crowd, because Upton Grange lies across the lane and through the woods”-with one long finger he indicated the direction-“less than a mile away, and because when you came in your hems were wet.” His jaw clenched. “You’d been traipsing about the woods during a downpour of biblical proportions in the dark of night…why?”

He’d managed through an effort of quite remarkable magnitude to subdue the emotions roiling and welling inside him-roused by the realization of what she was about-enough to make his question reasonably unthreatening.

She still eyed him warily. After a moment, she licked her lips. “You do realize, Ro, that you have no grounds on which to interfere.” She tipped up her chin. “My life is my own, and I will do as I please.”

He simply looked at her and made no reply.

She drew breath, then confessed, “I arrived this afternoon, before the rain started. I need to get the letter back as soon as possible, before Barham realizes what he has. You know how fiendish he is-once he discovers the letter it’ll be all over London.” On the table, her fingers linked, twisted. “And on top of that, Tab and Barham have crossed swords before, and Barham came out of it badly. He would like nothing better than to expose Tab and bring her down in the eyes of the ton.”