Her smile had been thin, but no one had been likely to miss its implications… or forget the ghosts of Denver Summervale and Pavel Young.

“The fact is, of course, that there have been no threats,” she had continued with another shrug. “Nor will there be, although Mr. Hayes will undoubtedly continue to use the ‘threat’ of my armsmen to explain his failure to produce witnesses. In the meantime, however, I believe we’ve dealt with the matter as thoroughly as it deserves, and, as I say, I have no intention of belaboring my denial of the allegations.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Prince had murmured. “In that case, I wonder if you’d care to comment on the proposed naval budgets? For example…”

The rest of the interview had dealt exclusively with legitimate questions of politics and policy, and Honor felt confident she’d handled that portion of it well. She was less confident that anyone had bothered to notice. All of the post-interview analysis—including, unfortunately, the “Point-Counterpoint” commentary with which DuCain and Prince always closed their program—had completely ignored it to concentrate once again on the far more interesting scandal. According to William Alexander’s pollsters and analysts, she’d scored a few points with the interview—even won a slight opinion swing in her favor. But it hadn’t been enough to stem the tide in the long run, and the other side had attacked with redoubled fury.

They didn’t have it all their own way, of course. Indeed, Honor was surprised to find half a dozen prominent Liberals and even one or two Conservative commentators who genuinely sought to disassociate themselves from the witch hunt. A part of her was ashamed when she recognized her surprise for what it was. Realized she’d become so cynical about the supporters of the High Ridge Government that the very thought that any of them might possess true integrity was astonishing to her. But only a part of her felt that, and as the tempo increased those voices of reason simply disappeared—not silenced, but drowned out and pounded under by the carefully conducted orchestra of innuendo and accusation.

Nor had she been devoid of other defenders. Catherine Montaigne, in the midst of a campaign which pitted her against her own party’s leadership, had come out swinging. Her scathing denunciation of the tactics being employed had been downright vicious, nor had she shrunk from identifying New Kiev and other senior members of the Liberal Party as accomplices in what she openly defined as a smear campaign. Ironically, even as the party leadership turned on her in fury for her temerity, it was actually helping her with the voters of High Threadmore. But that was one isolated borough, where people were actually listening to what was said in the course of a fiercely contested election, and not simply the sound and fury frothing on the surface.

Klaus and Stacey Hauptman had also come out strongly in her support, although there’d been little they could actually do. Stacey had made it clear the Hauptman resources were prepared to stand behind her, but to be honest, the Hauptman fortune, vast as it was, would not have added materially to the political war chest Honor could produce out of her own resources. Their private investigators (and also, though she had no intention of mentioning it to anyone, including William Alexander, Anton Zilwicki), however, had delved as deeply as the law permitted—and perhaps even a little deeper, in some instances—into Hayes’ background and his files. That was one way they could help, because it allowed Honor to keep her own security people scrupulously away from the scandalmonger. But whoever was orchestrating Hayes’ security was obviously very good at her job and had money to burn. Zilwicki’s theory, which Elijah Sennett, the Hauptman Cartel’s chief of security, shared was that the person doing that job was Countess North Hollow. Somehow, that didn’t surprise Honor a bit.