From her perch by the dormer window, Klara had a perfect view of the garden party below. The cream of London’s antiquities scene milled about on the manicured lawn, sipping champagne and pretending not to hate each other. And there, holding court under a weeping beech tree, was Georgina Gee.
Klara’s smile didn’t waver, but her pulse ticked up. “I’m flattered you’ve heard of me.” klara devine & georgina gee
Klara smiled and walked across the grass, the ruby warm against her hip. She had come for a prize and left with a mirror. And she knew, with absolute certainty, that she would return to Georgina Gee’s house again. Not to steal, but to listen. From her perch by the dormer window, Klara
The air in the attic was thick with the scent of lavender and old paper. Klara Devine ran a gloved finger along the spine of a leather-bound journal, her breath catching as a fine plume of dust motes swirled in the slanted afternoon light. She wasn't a thief, not in the crude sense of the word. She was a recovery specialist. And the item she needed to recover was currently tucked into the beaded handbag of Georgina Gee. Klara’s smile didn’t waver, but her pulse ticked up
Georgina nodded once, sharply, as if to dismiss any sentimentality. “Then we understand each other. Now go, before I change my mind and challenge you to a croquet duel for it. I always play with a poisoned mallet.”
“I make it my business to know the names of people who want to take things from me.” Georgina tapped the beaded bag. “You’re here for the red pebble, aren’t you?”
Klara adjusted the earpiece hidden beneath her auburn waves. “Georgie, be reasonable,” she whispered to herself, rehearsing the plan. The plan was simple: charm, distract, lift. She was very good at simple.