He was about to walk over when I accidentally stepped on the edge of a tablecloth. A row of glasses tipped and nearly cascaded onto me. Frederick's reflexes kicked in. He grabbed me and pulled me close, shielding my stomach.
Shards of glass sliced into my hand. Blood ran freely between my fingers. He didn't even glance at it.
"Libby, are you alright? Just rest here for a minute. My friend seems to have run into some trouble."
The crowd was thick, but through the gaps between onlookers, I spotted a pair of eyes I knew all too well.
My adoptive sister, Agatha. Dramatic as ever. She stood there in a scarlet dress, her expression dripping with contempt, utterly unbothered by the powerful man she'd just offended.
Frederick cut through the crowd and positioned himself in front of Mr. Finch, tucking Agatha behind him.
"Mr. Finch, it's such a wonderful evening. Don't let this ruin your mood. You mentioned earlier you wanted some of the wine I ordered? However many bottles you'd like, they're yours."
Frederick was all smiles and flattery. When Mr. Finch's expression finally softened, Frederick quickly had someone bring out a fresh suit.