He made the trip from Cambridgeshire to London in something under four hours, which breakneck pace allowed him to avoid thinking of Catenhaugh, Brussels, or the quick sting of surprise and happiness he had felt in meeting Olivia Temperer, which had been as quickly followed by cold anger. Roberts, the groom, remarked that his Lordship was in remarkably poor temper. When Menwin’s phaeton drew up before his house in Hill Street and Roberts took the ribbons, Menwin made straight for his office with directions to the butler that he did not wish to be disturbed. Five minutes later, finding nothing upon his desk but bills and notes from his grandfather, he would have been glad of any interruption, and thought seriously of countermanding his orders in hopes that some distracting business would come up. None did, however, and faced with the choice of brooding over his own behavior at Catenhaugh and dealing with his mail, Menwin opted for the latter. Two polite but inexorable requests for payments from his father’s creditors.
