Klara Devine & Georgina Gee ~upd~ -

Klara’s hand, which had been inching toward the beaded bag, stopped. “Condition?”

No point in lying. “It belongs to my family’s trust. The earl was a guest. He abused that trust. The ruby should never have left the vault.” klara devine & georgina gee

Georgina was a marvel of controlled chaos. Her silver hair was piled into an elaborate beehive, from which a single peacock feather sprouted. She wore a kaftan the color of a bruised plum, and on her left wrist, a jade bangle Klara knew was worth a small flat in Kensington. But Klara’s eyes were fixed on the bag: a tiny, beaded, Art Deco number that looked too delicate to hold a lipstick, let alone the object of her search—the Star of Myrrha, a flawed but historically priceless ruby. Klara’s hand, which had been inching toward the

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.” The earl was a guest

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. “I’m flattered you’ve heard of me.”

Georgina chuckled, a dry, papery sound. “Oh, I know. Horrible man. Chews with his mouth open and has the emotional intelligence of a potted fern. But he gave it to my goddaughter, and she gave it to me for safekeeping. She’s young. She made a foolish choice in lovers, not in loot. I won’t see her charged with theft.”