“The Right Honorable Gentleman from Stirrington!” cried the Speaker.
Lenox rose, his legs insensate. For strength he chanced a look at his brother.
Edmund returned the gaze. He was a man with a pure, tender heart-less doubtful than his brother’s, more open-and as Charles rose to speak, he felt conflicted. He knew that the excitement of the past two days was what his brother really loved, what he thrived on, and he was happy. In another part of his heart, however, he worried that Charles would never again be a detective-that he would live in this less happy profession he had found out of a sense of duty, occasionally excited as he was now but more often dispirited.
And Edmund worried about Charles and Jane.
Lenox himself, who knew perhaps a bit better, shifted his gaze from Edmund to Jane herself. She was in the spectators’ gallery, a gray dress on, the knuckles of her fists white with tension. She gave him a small smile, and to his surprise he realized that it calmed him.
From her he looked out into the chamber, and with a clear, confident voice, began to speak.