His Mail Order Bride Was the Prettiest Woman He Ever Laid His Eyes On
Chapter 8
Lord William Ashford was a wealthy landowner from the eastern county.
His influence reached the governor’s office.
He owned ships.
Warehouses.
Mills.
And, according to the magistrate, he had been quietly buying every property connected to the river.
Eleanor’s inheritance was the final piece.
Thomas frowned.
“Why would a lord care about three farms?”
The magistrate looked at him.
“Because those farms sit above the river road.”
Thomas understood.
The road was the only reliable route between the port and the inland settlements.
Control the land meant control the trade.
Eleanor looked at the documents.
“What can we do?”
The magistrate lowered his voice.
“Find proof that Jonathan forged your signature.”
Thomas asked,
“And if we do?”
“I can stop the transfer.”
“Can you stop Ashford?”
“No.”
The magistrate looked toward the door.
“But someone else might.”
They left town.
On the way home, Eleanor asked,
“Who is the person we need?”
Thomas looked at her.
“My father’s old solicitor.”
“Where is he?”
“London.”
“That is weeks away.”
“Yes.”
“And the court?”
“Six weeks.”
Eleanor sighed.
“We don’t have time.”
Thomas looked at her.
“We have enough.”
“How?”
He pointed toward the horizon.
“Your aunt left something behind.”
“What?”
“The letter said to watch what I do when there is nothing to gain.”
Eleanor frowned.
“And?”
“Your aunt knew someone else.”
They returned to the estate records.
Buried among the documents was an old journal.
It belonged to Eleanor’s father.
The final entries mentioned a man named Samuel Gray.
A traveling solicitor.
The last entry read:
If anything happens to me, Samuel knows where the original contract is.
Thomas looked up.
“Where did he go?”
Eleanor turned the page.
“Philadelphia.”
Thomas smiled.
“That is much closer.”
But before they could leave, a rider arrived.
Samuel Gray was already in the county.
He had come looking for Eleanor.
And he carried a document that could destroy everything Crowe and Ashford had built.
