Back Naughty in Nice
Chapters (40)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter 1
  5. Chapter 2
  6. Chapter 3
  7. Chapter 4
  8. Chapter 5
  9. Chapter 6
  10. Chapter 7
  11. Chapter 8
  12. Chapter 9
  13. Chapter 10
  14. Chapter 11
  15. Chapter 12
  16. Chapter 13
  17. Chapter 14
  18. Chapter 15
  19. Chapter 16
  20. Chapter 17
  21. Chapter 18
  22. Chapter 19
  23. Chapter 20
  24. Chapter 21
  25. Chapter 22
  26. Chapter 23
  27. Chapter 24
  28. Chapter 25
  29. Chapter 26
  30. Chapter 27
  31. Chapter 28
  32. Chapter 29
  33. Chapter 30
  34. Chapter 31
  35. Chapter 32
  36. Chapter 33
  37. Chapter 34
  38. Chapter 35
  39. Historical Note
  40. Click here for more books by this author

“Thank you for the kind offer, but I prefer a lovely bedroom overlooking the ocean to a camp bed in a library,” I said. At that moment Coco and Vera arrived to join me. “Sorry, I have to run. Madame Chanel doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” I flashed them a brilliant smile. “Isn’t shopping at Galeries Lafayette fun?”

Chapter 18

022

Chapter 18

January 26, 1933
About to visit Sir Toby Groper. Will I have the nerve to
swipe the snuffbox?

I left Mummy, Vera and Coco in town, ready to do battle with the obnoxious Inspector Lafite again, visit jewelers, and snoop around at the casino and station, while Franz, Mummy’s chauffeur, ran me back to the villa.

I felt a little trepidation as I made my way to Sir Toby’s place, attired in my new ensemble. I had never been a thief before. If I found the snuffbox, would I dare to take it? Another thought crossed my mind as I approached the tall wrought-iron gates. I had heard and seen enough to know about Sir Toby’s ruthlessness and recklessness. If he had dared to pocket a snuffbox from Buckingham Palace, was it possible that he had known the necklace I would be wearing belonged to the queen? Was it also possible that his son was in league with him and together they had managed to steal it? I would have to tread very carefully. Frankly, I almost lost my nerve when I spotted the villa, nestled among umbrella pines.

It was a low, dazzling white building with an impressive portico of Roman columns. The thought of a vestal virgin going to the sacrifice did cross my mind. I knocked and the door was opened by the young man I had seen that morning. He was now fully clothed—remarkably formally for the Riviera in a dark jacket and striped pants. I tried to put the image of his naked body from my mind.

“Hello,” I said, trying to sound bright and jaunty. “I’ve come to see Sir Toby.”

“Whom may I say is calling, miss?” he asked.

“La—” I started to give my full name, then swallowed it back. “My name’s Georgie. I’m staying at the villa next door and Sir Toby invited me for a swim in his pool or maybe a sail on his yacht.”

“Please come in and wait while I inform Sir Toby of your arrival,” the young man said formally, giving a little bow.