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CORA FINISHED HER ACT, curtsied to her audience and sauntered from the stage. The now-familiar applause rang through the club.
“Magnificent.” The stage manager rushed to her, and his black hair gleamed under the multitude of chandeliers. “Absolutely magnificent.”
“Thank you,” Cora said.
“You have a guest in your dressing room,” the manager said. “A male guest. He’s been waiting for the past hour.”
Cora smiled.
Most likely it was Randolph. Though they’d met under unideal circumstances—Randolph had been occupied with spying on her dear friend Veronica, and Cora had been occupied with trying to get him to leave—they had been seeing each other steadily since then.
“Thank you.” Cora moved through the hallway to her dressing room.
The stage manager had been correct.
There was a man sitting in her dressing room, clutching a bouquet.
Unfortunately, he was not Randolph.
The stranger wore a suit, though the pinstripes and coarse material denoted daywear, as if he’d come straight to the performance from his office. Most of the men in the club wore crisp black suits and bow ties, differentiated only by whether they’d chosen white or black.
The man lurched up and bowed. “Miss Clarke, I presume?”
“Yes.” She frowned. Evidently, he hadn’t seen any of her performance. No one else in the club had been clothed in pink taffeta.
“G-good.” He nodded.
“Was there a particular reason you desired to see me?”
“Ah. These are for you.” He shoved the flowers toward her, and water smeared across the glass table.
Cora picked up the bouquet politely. “Thank you.”
“I’m an—er—fan of Nick Valenti. Your father.”
“Indeed?” The fact wasn’t unusual. Pop was a star. He’d been a singer her whole life.
“He’s not here,” she said. “I took over his act.”
The man nodded rapidly. “Right. Right. I know that. He went to the Grand Hotel on Lake Bella.”
She stilled. “You seem familiar with his schedule.”
“I make it my job to know his schedule,” the man said. “I’m—er—a huge fan. I do love to listen to singing. Nothing like it in the world.”
“How odd then that you did not desire to hear my voice.”
The man flushed and brushed his fingers over the knot of his tie. It shone, its intensity magnified by the cheap fabric. “Forgive me. I—er—just arrived.”
The lie was obvious, and she narrowed her eyes. What had compelled him to prevaricate?
The stranger coughed, as if the sound could compel her mind to not linger on the strangeness of his presence. Cora was accustomed to meeting her father’s fans. Most were younger women, and most had starry-eyes when they approached him. His ardent enthusiasts generally had some curiosity about Cora’s capabilities. After all, she was his daughter. In fact, she’d been a child actress and was in some circles even more famous than her father.
“Which of my father’s songs is your favorite?” Cora asked abruptly.
The man’s face whitened. “There are so many...” He swallowed hard. “But I don’t want to speak about me. I want to know if you know where I can find him. To watch his performances, of course.”
She stared at him. “You know the place. You just said it. He’s performing at the Grand Hotel on Lake Bella.”
The man’s face hardened, as if he were bracing himself for an unpleasant task. “He’s not there.”
“Excuse me?” Cora frowned.
Pop might be charming and charismatic, but nobody marveled at his sense of responsibility. Still, it wasn’t like Pop to abandon a tour. He’d arrived there recently from a similarly magnificent hotel in Austria.
“He’s not at the hotel,” the man said. “And I’m—er—saddened.”
Cora blinked.
Apparently, the unpleasant task the man had was to inform her of the news.
She sat down and surveyed the man. He shifted his legs, as if uncomfortable with her attention, then pushed his glasses further up his nose. Dirty glass glinted, even in the soft light of the dressing room. He patted his beard, as if still unaccustomed to it, but Cora supposed even the most unstylish men couldn’t be accustomed to such a horrendous shape.
Pop didn’t leave performances mid-run, not unless he had someone of similar stature to carry on for him. He wouldn’t leave someone in the lurch. Pop might have taken his marriage vows lightly, a trait Cora’s mother shared, but he’d never taken his career obligations lightly. Reputation was everything, he’d often told her. In fact, he’d gone to elaborate lengths to protect both their reputations earlier this year.
Cora rose. “Thank you for that information. I appreciate it.”
“But you haven’t answered me!”
“I don’t know his location,” she said. “Perhaps he’ll be back soon. Hopefully. Now, you really must go.”
“So you’ll try to find him? You’ll go there?” His voice was oddly hopeful.
“That’s not your concern.”
The man didn’t budge from his chair, but Cora didn’t care. She’d rather not go through the niceties of hand shaking either.
Cora marched from the dressing room. The feathers on her bodice flew up, and she adjusted them hastily, not slowing her pace.
Pop was missing.
On the continent.
And I’ll have to find him.