Lia turned to find a distinguished-looking man with deep-set brown eyes and hair liberally silvered at the temples. He was dressed in a severe charcoal suit, though his turquoise shirt was open at the throat. He held a brochure from the exhibit in his hands.

“I am,” she replied.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Luca Adler. We’ve travelled here from Geneva.”

“Welcome,” Lia replied, shaking his hand. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m not sure.” The man’s eyes dropped, and his forehead creased. “Your necklace. May I ask where you got it?”

Lia put her hand to her throat. The little enameled pendant was warm against her skin.

Gabriel slid his arm over her shoulder. “May I ask what your interest is in Miss Leclaire’s jewelry?” His voice was pleasant enough but there was an unmistakable steely tone beneath.

“I’ve seen it before,” Adler said. “That pendant, that is.”

“It was a gift from my grandmère,” Lia told him, puzzled.

“And your grandmother was the Estelle Allard mentioned here?” He gestured to the brochure.

“Yes.”

“Indeed.” The man still looked distracted.

“Is there something else I can help you with?”

“I think that maybe we can help you.” He held up the brochure. “My mother saw the advert for this exhibition on the news. Saw the story behind it and the photos of the paintings that were to be shown. She recognized three of them.”

Lia glanced at Gabriel, her heart skipping.

Gabriel extended his hand. “Gabriel Seymour,” he said. “I was hired by Miss Leclaire to curate and restore this collection.”

Adler shook his hand. “A pleasure.”

“May I ask which three paintings your mother believes she recognized?”

“The Degas paintings. At the risk of sounding insane, I think they may have, at one time, belonged to my mother.”

“Extraordinary,” Gabriel said politely. “Do you have any evidence to back such a claim?”

“I think so. But I also think,” he said, glancing again at Lia’s throat where her pendant rested, “that my mother should be the one to show you. She’s here tonight,” he added. “And I would be much obliged if you would speak with her.”

“Of course,” Lia replied. She realized that she was gripping Gabriel’s arm hard enough to make her fingers ache and forced herself to relax her grip.