“I wish that were so.”
“Wishes are all very well,” said Caro. “But sometimes you must take a risk to make them come true.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The buzz of anticipation was growing louder and louder, its low sound amplified by the arched ceilings and ornately carved stone. Olivia pinched at the pleats of her skirts, trying not to appear too nervous. A sidelong glance either way showed that the spectator alcove in which they were standing was filled.
“What a crush,” Next to her, Cecilia’s husband, Henry, blotted his brow with a handkerchief while his wife craned her neck to survey the peers assembled in the main gallery.
“Look, there is Sommers,” whispered Cecilia, pointing out Lumley’s coconspirator. The duke was conferring with a several of his cronies, and Olivia was gratified to see he was looking grim-faced.
“The man has a nerve to show himself—”
A shush from Henry warned her to silence.
The conversation around them died, too, as John rose.
Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, sure that the thudding of her heart must sound as loud as cannonfire to the neighboring spectators. The tension was unbearable—in another instant, she feared that her lungs might explode from the force of her pent-up breath.
“Gentlemen, I stand before you today to speak about an issue of elemental justice.” John’s voice rose clear and confident above the lingering hum.
She felt herself able to exhale.
“Do we, as a nation, care for those who have fought so valiantly to preserve our freedoms…”
Edging forward, she dared to open her eyes.
“So we must rise up!”
Olivia felt a wave of emotion ripple through the packed crowd and knew as she watched the faces of the peers seated in their regal chairs that people were moved by his words.
Their words.
Clasping her hands together, she blinked back the sting of salt against her lids. We did it—two as one, with the whole stronger than either of the separate parts.
John spoke on, his voice alternating between soft and soaring. Just as rehearsed, he modulated his voice to lift the last lyrical passage to a heartfelt crescendo.
A thunderous applause broke out as he returned to his seat.
“By Jove, he did well,” murmured Henry.
“Oh, exceedingly well,” agreed Cecilia. “But then, I never doubted it for an instant.”
“My wife is, of course, prejudiced,” said Henry with a fond smile. “What is your opinion, Miss Sloane? Do you think Wrexham was good enough to win the votes needed to pass the bill?”
Olivia listened to the cheers echoing through the hall. “I think he was more than good, sir. He was…he was perfect.”
“A toast to your eloquence, Wrexham.” Yet another of his fellow politicians clapped him on the back and raised a glass of champagne.
“Thank you, Sumner.” John looked around Cecilia and Henry’s drawing room, his gaze seeking Olivia as he quaffed a small sip. “However the victory is not mine alone. There were a great many people who worked very hard to win passage of this bill.”
“Yes, but you’ve proven yourself an able spokesman,” said Sumner. “Let us meet sometime next week to discuss your future within our party. I think you have the makings of a very effective leader.”
“Thank you,” he repeated, grateful that Sumner nodded and then moved away to join several other colleagues who were seeking out his sister to take their leave.
A few more congratulations were offered, but to his relief, the room was beginning to empty. Only a few family friends lingered.
And Olivia.