Adcock gazed back at Mia. “Will there be anything else, Miss Selwyn?” he asked impatiently. Was he trying to hurry her along? Torn between good manners and unbecoming curiosity, she hesitated before stepping back from the counter.
“I need paper and ink.” Kendrick stepped forward, gazing directly at Adcock.
For a moment, she thought the proprietor would refuse to serve him. “Not dead, then?” Adcock asked.
“As you see. Kindly fill my order,” Kendrick said.
Adcock didn’t appear shocked. Gossip up and down the village had informed all of them that the old earl’s son had returned alive and well. “Still scribbling incomprehensible drivel, Tavernash?” Adcock spat.
“My name is Kendrick. Fill my order and keep your ignorant opinions to yourself.”
“I hear you’re at Woodglen. Use theirs.” Frozen in inappropriate fascination by the doorway, Mia thought Adcock would give Kendrick cut direct and retreat to his back room.
“Supplies have run out,” Kendrick said, every word sharp as a chip of ice.
That stopped Adcock in his tracks, and he laughed outright. “Their monthly shipment went over three days ago. If you ask Fillmore nicely, he might…”
Color rose up Kendrick’s neck. “I’ll have a ream of paper and two bottles of ink,” he said. “Add three empty ledger books, and give me a copy of Woodglen’s orders for the past three months.”
Mia leaned back against the wall, fearing Kendrick’s anger was boiling to an explosion of some sort. She had no idea what she could do about it.
“And how many goose quills, Your Majesty?” Adcock sneered.
“None. I own a supply of Donkin’s metal tips. Just fill my order,” Kendrick retorted.
“I’ll see your money first, Taver—whatever you call yourself,” Adcock said. “And I won’t show you any damned accounts without Curtis Marshall’s say-so.”
“Fine. I’ll view the copy at the house. Put my order on Woodglen’s account,” Kendrick said, his voice growing tight, his effort at control obvious.
Adcock’s eyes flew wide. “You do have cheek. Even more than you did as a boy. I’ll need Curtis Marshall to—”
“You need nothing. I’m auditing the Woodglen books. Perhaps I should examine the business you’ve done with the estate more closely. It may be that we need to send our trade to a different proprietor,” Kendrick said, holding his ground.
“You’re the idiot old Glenmoor always said you were if you think you can get away with that stunt,” Adcock said.
“Don’t try me,” Kendrick replied. He glared at the proprietor, his expression implacable. He seemed to grow before her as he spoke. Mia held her breath in the face of the battle raging.
Adcock sagged; the round went to Kendrick. “I’ll do it this time. I’ll send a bill to Marshall immediately, however. If it isn’t paid, I’ll not let you in here again, and I’ll see to it you are barred from every store in Nether Abbas.”
“You’ll do it, or I will personally take Woodglen’s trade to Shaftsbury.”
Adcock shot Mia a filthy look while he assembled the requested goods. Kendrick caught it, turned, and saw her watching. Red blotches emerged on his face, while his eyes burned with anger. Mia shifted her gaze to her feet.
She fled, breezed past Hannibal where he waited patiently on the road, and was a full block down the market street before a realization brought her to a stop. She thought Kendrick’s behavior rude—and it had been, every time she’d encountered him. That didn’t give her an excuse to pry into his private interaction with Adcock. She owed him an apology this time.
By the time she reached the stationers’ store, Kendrick was leaving, a package in his arms and a world-class scowl on his face.
“I owe you an apology.” She blurted the words out before she came to a stop.
Kendrick shook his head. His expression didn’t soften. “Did you satisfy your curiosity?”
Her neck and cheeks felt hotter than ever. “That wasn’t well done of me.” Then she spoiled her apology when she couldn’t hold back the question troubling her. “Are you really auditing Woodglen?”
“Yes, and before you ask on whose authority, it is none of your business,” he said, tying his package behind his saddle.
“Every shopkeeper in Nether Abbas will want to know the answer to that,” Mia murmured.
“Very well. Tell them the duke’s authority.”
