Is this how he intended to spend the rest of his life? Quelling Nisa’s fires by throwing others in to smother it?

“What do you have to say for yourself, sir?” Aslan demanded, bracing an arm protectively around her.

Yes. Yes it was.

“Rein your useless wife-”
“-Sister-”
“-in, at once!”

Aslan rolled his neck and stared Hubert down.

“Well?” Hubert snapped.

Aslan loosened his right arm on Nisa, shook his head as though that was the end of that … and then grabbed her glass with his left. He threw the remainder in Hubert’s face. Martha screamed. A few people gasped. Hubert launched toward him with both hands. The much larger Hubert got a mean right hook to his face, and another to his stomach that looked pretty damned painful.

It was hard to tell what was wine and what was blood when Aslan smashed the glass over Hubert’s face in a most ungentlemanly manner, driving him back with the shards still clinging to the the stem.

For all he had wanted to present as high society tonight, they did not teach this at boxing school.