Page 35 of Fairest of Heart

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her gaze darted around the stage area, then she surprised him by jerking her head in the direction of an unoccupied corner. She scurried away, leaving him to follow.

“I want to report a missing person,” she whispered when he caught up to her. “Penelope Snow. She’s around twenty years old, dark hair, pale complexion. She was Madame’s personal maid. She disappeared over two weeks ago. No one knows what happened to her.”

Titus almost flinched at hearing her name. The confirmation that Miss Snow was indeed part of the theater troupe soured his stomach. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized he’d been searching for another woman meeting her description among the company, hoping she wasn’t the girl Hathaway had mentioned. That it was all a coincidence. But the small bit of wiggle room he’d managed to preserve vanished at the mention of her name.

Penelope was the girl Hubert Hathaway described. Meaning, she was one of two likely suspects for the position of Hathaway’s paramour. A paramour who was either a thief or a thief’s accomplice.

Shoving down his disappointment with ruthless efficiency, Titus sharpened his attention on the woman before him. “Did she have any enemies that you know of, or anyone who would wish her harm?”

Someone who would tie her to a tree and leave her in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps a disgruntled accomplice?

Tears suddenly flooded the woman’s eyes. “It’s my fault. She was just trying to help me. But Madame got so angry. I—”

“Mildred!”

The woman jumped as if the snapping voice had been a gunshot. Her lashes dropped over her eyes and her lips pressed together so tightly white lines appeared.

“Where have you been?” Another woman approached, Titus surmised by the tapping of shoes and swishing of petticoats. “I asked for that dress twenty minutes ago. I need it for the second . . . act.”

Titus pivoted to greet the newcomer and had to fight to keep his jaw hinged in place. It was as if Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, and Bathsheba had been melted down and poured into a new vessel to create the woman before him. Power. Beauty. Temptation. Her dress fit her like a second skin, showing off every curve, of which there were many. All in the right places. He forced his gaze to her face, then quickly veered from the beauty mark determined to draw his attention to plump lips that pouted just enough to put kissing into a man’s mind.

“Can I help you, Mr. . . . ?” Her voice took on a husky tone, and he didn’t miss the way she adjusted her posture into just the right position to show off her figure to its best advantage.

Titus hardened his heart. “Ranger Titus Kingsley of the Frontier Battalion, ma’am.”

He watched her carefully as he revealed his title. She was good. Only a blink and a slight change in her breathing gave away her surprise.

“Are you Madame LaBelle?” Of course she was. Everything about her commanded attention.

She smiled, her lips lifting slightly higher on the left, as if pointing to that beauty mark. “I am. Can I help you with something, Ranger Kingsley?”

“I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I may.”

Her hand fluttered at her breast, but his gaze didn’t follow. He knew this type of beauty. Seductive. Manipulative. Selfish. The same variety Nora had possessed. The kind that got Tate killed. Titus’s pulse slowed. His control clicked into place. She could pose, flaunt, and flirt all she wanted. He’d not be distracted. Not anymore. The shock of her had worn off.

As if she sensed the change in him, she lowered her arm and touched Mildred’s shoulder. “Please take the costume to my dressing room and inform Mr. Billings we have a guest.”

“Yes, Madame.” Mildred scurried away, sparing Titus a quick, pleading glance.

Pleading for what? His help? His silence?

“Why don’t we head to the front of the house?” Madame LaBelle gestured toward a door to his right. “That way the troupe can complete their preparations without distraction, and we can speak in private.”

He nodded, held the door open, and allowed her to go through ahead of him, not surprised when she passed close enough for her skirt to brush his leg. The woman was a skilled seductress. Nothing like Penelope.

Unless Penelope was even more clever. Able to project innocence the way Madame LaBelle projected allure. The notion rubbed against his grain, but he had to consider it. He couldn’t afford to be suckered. Better a cynic than a fool.

Titus followed the actress into the gallery, the electric lights making it easy to scan the seat rows for threats. Not that there were any in the vacant theater, but Titus checked anyway. Danger could emerge from anywhere. Assumptions got a man killed.

“Now, Ranger Kingsley,” Madame said as she turned to face him, “how can I be of assistance?”

Her smile had lost its seductive edge, taking on a polite veneer. He preferred this version, but the fact that she had recognized his preference and adjusted to match kept him on edge. The woman was a chameleon. Which would make discerning the truth a challenge.

“Do you know a Hubert Hathaway?”

She blinked, and her smile flattened. “Yes.” She drew out the word as if not quite certain. “I believe so. I seem to recall a man by that name coming backstage after one of my shows.” Her gaze tilted up. “Was it Waco? Or maybe Cameron?” She shrugged. “I’ve performed in so many places it’s hard to keep track.”