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Henry could have laughed. Did the man know his niece at all? Miss Fernside was no doubt beside herself.

“You must miss walking with them,” Henry tried next.

“I do.” His jaw flinched, then he turned to face Henry directly. “So you are a member of Blackstone’s.”

Henry nearly balked at the sudden change in conversation—and what it shifted to. This was the last thing he wished to discuss with the prejudiced gentleman.

“Yes, I am, sir.”

“And you find that Lord Blackstone treats you well?”

“Indeed. He is a kind man, if not a little eccentric. But then, most of us are in our own ways.”

He needn’t share how greatly he disapproved of the viscount’s gallery or the way he prattled on and on. Mr. Haskett hardly seemed unimpressed as it was.

“And are you acquainted with many of the men in your club?” the man asked next.

Henry hesitated. Mr. Haskett was clearly fishing, but for what fish, Henry couldn’t be sure. “I am with a certain number.”

His lips thinned. “What of Mr. Sebastian Drake?”

Mr. Drake? What on earth had he to do with anything? “I know him, yes.”

“Are the two of you merely acquaintances or have you struck up a friendship with him?”

Henry fought his every instinct to maintain his footing. Mr. Haskett’s questioning was so forceful, so strange, Henry wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. What was with this sudden obsession with Mr. Drake, of all people?

Furthermore, what right did Mr. Haskett have to interrogate Henry in such a way? He had a mind to fight back.

Miss Fernside. Think of Miss Fernside.

“We are merely acquaintances, sir,” Henry replied, his jaw tight. “But what I know of him, I believe to be honorable.”

Mr. Haskett sniffed, raising his chin with an air of superiority Henry couldn’t understand. “If you’ll excuse me. I promised Mr. Dunn I would share my latest find with him.”

With that, he bowed, then turned on his boot and stalked away.

Henry stared after him, dumbfounded and crestfallen. That simply could not have gone worse.

“Morning, Mr. Branok.”

Henry turned to find Mr. Shepherd by his side, a friendly smile on his face.

“Mr. Shepherd,” he greeted. “Good morning.”

Mr. Shepherd’s smile faded. “Are you well, sir?”

Henry stared after Mr. Haskett’s departing figure, the man walking right past Mr. Dunn to forge ahead of the group.

“Yes, I’m well,” Henry replied. “Though I fear Mr. Haskett is not.”

To Henry’s surprise, Mr. Shepherd chuckled.

“Why do you laugh?” he asked.

“Well, because it is obvious,” Mr. Shepherd said knowingly. “Mr. Haskett’s changed behavior. His sudden interrogations. It all adds up rather nicely.”

Henry faced him more directly. “Adds up to what, exactly? Him disapproving of my being a part of Blackstone’s?”