Heirly Ever After by Vernon, Magan (best classic novels .TXT) 📕

“But it’s really late now, and I don’t know if I want to wake her up…or my mom, for that matter.”

He nodded. “We both don’t want to bother our family members or make them get out in this weather, so why don’t we check into an inn? In the maps I’ve seen online, there’s one right on the square. I’m sure they’ll have two rooms for us.”

Warning bells went off in my head about the casual way he was making plans for us. I mean, it was a good plan and we’d each get our own room. I could also send a text to Natalie once I was settled and let her know where I was.

Jacob reached into his pocket, pulling out a small silver coin as he took a step closer, holding the object between us.

“How about we flip a coin?”

“A coin?”

He nodded. “Heads, we go to the inn and get a room. Tails, we go our separate ways now.”

Maybe it was jet lag or the long ride, but my lips moved before I could really think. “Okay, flip it.”

He grinned, his eyes meeting mine as he tossed the coin up, catching it and holding it on his palm.

The face of Queen Elizabeth looked at me in profile.

Heads.

Chapter Two

Jacob

I had a solid plan when I booked my ticket. First, get on a train to Webley, England. Second, use the invitation addressed to my great-grandfather, from a family member we’d never met or spoken to, to get inside the manor. And third, save the MacWebley legacy. My legacy.

Easy enough.

Except the MacWebleys and the Webleys had been on the outs ever since my great-great-great-grandfather and grandmother had split. Since divorce had been frowned upon back then, and so Grandmother Mairi could keep her title as a Lady, Grandfather Arran had given her Webley Manor before he went back to Scotland.

I’d only ever heard of the place from Great-Grandfather’s stories when I was little. He’d told me how the MacWebleys had tried to reach out to pass the olive branch in years past, but all instances had been ignored. Then when my family’s financial situation had gotten worse, my grandfather and father had tried again to talk to the Webleys and ask for some help. They’d even sent a formal letter and gotten nothing in response.

This familial feud was all I had thought about for years.

These days, Great-Grandfather didn’t speak much of the family. Actually, he didn’t talk much at all except to ask one of his nurses where the damn remote was so he could watch Limmy’s Show. But he’d supported me when I failed out of uni and became the odd duck of the family, and restoring our legacy was the least I could do for him.

It would also put me back in everyone’s good graces.

As the oldest of the MacWebley clan, I figured Webley Manor or at least some part of it should be mine to inherit. It might have been granted as a gift, but technically it was the MacWebleys who had poured everything into building it from the ground up. Some part of it should belong to us, right?

I just had to find proof of this, cash in with the Webleys, and redeem myself to my family by easing our financial situation.

It was this or marrying the woman my parents had picked.

But the vile baroness was my last resort.

The former was the better option.

And I could get on with step two of my plan if the rain would ever die down. Did it bloody always storm like there was going to be a flood in England?

“So…are we going to do this?”

Madison’s southern twang sprung me out of my own mind as I looked from the window and back to her.

She was the kind of woman who I normally wouldn’t pay any mind to, with her wavy hair in a small ponytail, a few strands framing the freckles that dotted along her face. She was dressed plainly in a faded shirt that read “Raleigh Beer Trail” and looked like either a tourist shop find or a free pub shirt.

But not only was she darn cute and funny, she was also the sister of the soon-to-be Lady of Webley. The exact place I needed to get to.

Couldn’t hurt to be on her good side.

I tilted my head. “Do what? Try to make it to the inn in this rain?”

She giggled again, her nose wrinkling and eyes at half mast that brought attention to the tiny trail of freckles that ran along the corner of each eye.

Bloody hell, she really was cute.

She almost made me forget what I was really going to Webley to do.

After the invitation to the Webley wedding wound up at our place after years of not even a Christmas card between the families—or, hell, an answer to any previous requests for help over the last one hundred years—I’d promised Great-Grandfather to meet the family in his place and tell them his dying wish was to see them.

History showed that our pleas wouldn’t sway them, so I’d have to make them see that the MacWebleys were still around and that we had a claim to Webley. If there was any proof in that damn manor, I would find it.

So now was not the time to get distracted by a pretty face. Although arriving with Madison could help ease the way in with the Webleys. That was my reasoning for sticking with her. Nothing more.

I searched around until I saw the wooden sign, flapping in the breeze. I pointed at it. “Look. Over there.”

“Webley Bed and Breakfast” was barely visible, scrawled against birchwood, a small light shining on it. Hopefully the old Tudor was still open. The porch light was on, at least, so that was hope for something.

I glanced at Madison, her bleary eyes struggling to stay open. “Are you ready to make a run for it?”

She nodded. “Ready.”

“Wait…” I stopped and quickly shucked off my jacket, holding it out to her. “Here.”

She