“Thank you,” Leslie said.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No. That’s all I need.”
Why? What the hell does Leslie Stewart want with Henry Chambers?
The public fiasco with Oliver Russell had been a hundred times worse than anything Leslie could have imagined. It was a never-ending nightmare. Everywhere Leslie went there were the whispers:
“She’s the one. He practically jilted her at the altar…”
“I’m saving my wedding invitation as a souvenir…”
“I wonder what she’s going to do with her wedding gown?…”
The public gossip fueled Leslie’s pain, and the humiliation was unbearable. She would never trust a man again. Never. Her only consolation was that somehow, someday, she was going to make Oliver Russell pay for the unforgivable thing he had done to her. She had no idea how. With Senator Davis behind him, Oliver would have money and power. Then I have to find a way to have more money and more power, Leslie thought. But how? How?
The inauguration took place in the garden of the state capitol in Frankfort, near the exquisite thirty-four-foot floral clock.
Jan stood at Oliver’s side, proudly watching her handsome husband being sworn in as governor of Kentucky.
If Oliver behaved himself, the next stop was the White House, her father had assured her. And Jan intended to do everything in her power to see that nothing went wrong. Nothing.
After the ceremony, Oliver and his father-in-law were seated in the palatial library of the Executive Mansion, a beautiful building modeled after the Petit Trianon, Marie Antoinette’s villa near the palace of Versailles.
Senator Todd Davis looked around the luxurious room and nodded in satisfaction. “You’re going to do fine here, son. Just fine.”
“I owe it all to you,” Oliver said warmly. “I won’t forget that.”
Senator Davis waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t give it a thought, Oliver. You’re here because you deserve to be. Oh, maybe I helped push things along a wee bit. But this is just the beginning. I’ve been in politics a long time, son, and there are a few things I’ve learned.”
He looked over at Oliver, waiting, and Oliver said dutifully, “I’d love to hear them, Todd.”
“You see, people have got it wrong. It’s not who you know,” Senator Davis explained, “it’s what you know about who you know. Everybody’s got a little skeleton buried somewhere. All you have to do is dig it up, and you’ll be surprised how glad they’ll be to help you with whatever you need. I happen to know that there’s a congressman in Washington who once spent a year in a mental institution. A representative from up North served time in a reform school for stealing. Well, you can see what it would do to their careers if word ever got out. But it’s grist for our mills.”
The senator opened an expensive leather briefcase and took out a sheaf of papers and handed them to Oliver. “These are the people you’ll be dealing with here in Kentucky. They’re powerful men and women, but they all have Achilles’ heels.” He grinned. “The mayor has an Achilles’ high heel. He’s a transvestite.”
Oliver was scanning the papers, wide-eyed.
“You keep those locked up, you hear? That’s pure gold.”
“Don’t worry, Todd. I’ll be careful.”
“And, son—don’t put too much pressure on those people when you need something from them. Don’t break them—just bend them a little.” He studied Oliver a moment. “How are you and Jan getting along?”
“Great,” Oliver said quickly. It was true, in a sense. As far as Oliver was concerned, it was a marriage of convenience, and he was careful to see that he did nothing to disrupt it. He would never forget what his earlier indiscretion had almost cost him.
“That’s fine. Jan’s happiness is very important to me.” It was a warning.
“For me, as well,” Oliver said.
“By the way, how do you like Peter Tager?”
Oliver said enthusiastically, “I like him a lot. He’s been a tremendous help to me.”
Senator Davis nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. You won’t find anyone better. I’m going to lend him to you, Oliver. He can smooth a lot of paths for you.”