Aidan took a mock bow.
“Do you remember what you said next?”
Aidan smiled. “I said, But I want in anyway.”
“He’s nae afraid tae dance with the devil,” Duncan Murray said, his Scottish brogue so thick from the drink Nicholas could barely understand him.
“None of you were,” Draven said. “And twelve of you put on your dancing shoes and came back home. I want to tell you something I’ve never said before.” His voice hitched slightly, and his wife stood and put her arm around him. He gave her a look before taking a steadying breath. “I didn’t think any of you would come back, and the fact that twelve of you did is a testament to not only your skills but the strength of your bond. You truly had each other’s backs.”
“And we still do!” Stratford Fortescue said.
“We always will,” Jasper added.
“I’ll drink to that,” Neil said. “And I’ll drink to my beautiful wife.” He tipped his glass toward her. “I love you more than words, Juliana.”
Lady Juliana’s face colored, but she smiled and everyone drank.
Rafe, not one to surrender center stage for long, stood. “My wife isn’t here, but I want to raise a toast she’ll hear all the way in the Americas. To Collette, the love of my life!”
“To Collette!” the men echoed with a roar.
“Scotland isnae so far, but we’ll raise a glass tae my wife and make a toast they’ll hear in the Highlands. I love ye, Ines.”
“To Ines!” the men echoed.
Phineas stumbled to his feet, and the duchess gave him a concerned look and muttered, “Oh, dear.”
“I want to say something,” the duke said, sloshing brandy over the rim of the glass a footman had just refilled. “Fighting the French was bloody hard, but winning over this one”—he gestured toward his wife—“was even harder. To the fight,” he said raising a glass. “And the sweet spoils of victory.”
“To the spoils!” the men echoed then drank. The duchess pulled Phin down beside her for a kiss.
“I’m not one for speeches,” Nash said, and the room actually quieted. “But when I lost my sight, I thought I’d lost my life.”
Nicholas stared at him. He knew exactly what Nash meant, but he didn’t think the man would have ever said it out loud if he wasn’t deep in his cups.
“Pru showed me I still have my whole life ahead of me. I love you, Pru.”
“And I love you!” She jumped up and hugged him while the rest of the company smiled and drank.
“I think you all know that my life was relatively devoid of meaning,” Aidan said as Nash and Prudence sat down.
“But not devoid of blunt,” Rafe added.
“I never thought I’d say this,” Aidan remarked. “But money isn’t everything. So I want to raise a glass to the woman who was at my side when I had nothing. Now that I have her, I have everything.”
“Oh, ‘ell,” Jenny Sterling said, swiping away a tear. “Look wot ye did.”
“As long as we’re giving speeches,” Rowden said, rising. His wife turned bright red and hid her face in her hands. “I want to say thank you to all of you. You lot saved my life more times than I can count.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Colin said.
“And this woman made that life worth living. To Modesty!”
“To Modesty!” the men said and raised their glasses. Nicholas observed the footmen were busy filling glasses again as Jasper stood. He wasn’t wearing his mask, obviously comfortable enough without it among them.
“I know we’ll never forget the eighteen who didn’t come home with us,” Jasper said. “And I know we’re all living with the scars of the war.” He gestured to his face. “Some more obvious than others. But we have each other, and I’ve relied on every one of you to see me through my darkest days.”
“Giving someone else credit?” Rafe teased. “Now I know he’s foxed.”
“I am foxed,” Jasper agreed. “But not so foxed that I don’t know who deserves the most thanks. She loves me no matter what I look like. To Olivia!”
The men echoed his sentiment and Nicholas, who was near Jasper, heard Lady Jasper murmur, “You’re beautiful.”
Amelia leaned toward Nicholas. “Should we suggest everyone retire to bed? Mr. Fortescue can barely keep from falling over.”
As though on cue, Stratford lurched to his feet. “I love you, Emmeline. Toast to my Emme.”
Everyone toasted, and then Colin FitzRoy stood. “I was one of the few Survivors married when we went to war. Sorry to say, Daphne probably wouldn’t have cared if I’d come home or not.”
“That’s not true,” Lady Daphne protested.
“But thanks to all of you”—he raised his glass to the men—“I did come home. Thank you for giving me another chance,” he said, turning to Daphne. “I love you, bows and all.”
“To bows!” Rafe said and everyone echoed the ridiculous salute.
Ewan Mostyn cleared his throat, and everyone quieted. “I don’t have much to say.”
Everyone chuckled as he was stating the obvious. And he obviously wasn’t foxed, but then Nicholas wouldn’t expect that from him. After all, he had a three a.m. appointment with Master Charles.
Ewan pointed to Lady Lorraine, who looked speechless, for once. “But I love this woman.”
Nicholas felt himself rising. He hadn’t planned to speak, but if Ewan could do it, he could. “I came home before the end of the war,” he said, wincing a little at the sound of his slurred words. “I was wounded just after Nash and Aidan.”
“All three of you made it longer than me,” Jasper said.
“Some men will do anything to get out of obeying orders,” Neil joked.
Jasper made a rude gesture, and Nicholas continued, “I never thought I’d walk again. And I know I’ll never ride again.” His chest felt tight as so many of the emotions he’d kept locked inside started to well up. “But there was one thing I knew, even when I was lying in the dark on that muddy battlefield, my legs trapped under the best horse a man could ever want.” He raised his glass. “I knew you lads would come for me. And you did.”
“I wouldn’t leave a man behind,” Neil said. “I’m only sorry we had to leave Charlemagne.”
“He was the best horse,” Nicholas said, his eyes stinging. “He was a hero. To Charlemagne.” Nicholas raised his glass and the other men echoed him. A few of them looked teary-eyed as well. He sat back down heavily, and Colonel Draven rose.
“Well, this is a lot more sentimentality than I ever thought you lads capable of. You’re going soft in your old age.”
“Speak for yourself, old man,” Rafe joked.
Draven gave him a look, and Rafe held up his hands. “I mean, sir. I apologize—”
Draven pointed at him. “Got you.” And he smiled. He lifted his glass. “One last toast. No, two. Raise a glass to my beautiful wife, Catarina. The love of my life.”
“To Catarina!”
“And then finally, one last drink to all of you. The best troop of soldiers—the best group of men—I’ve ever had the privilege to serve with and call friends.”