Heirly Ever After - Vernon, Magan (pdf ebook reader .txt) 📗

Blair: I think I may have gotten some idea. Something something, manorial law. Something something heirs. Should I call the solicitor?

Blair: Are you ignoring me?

Blair: Seriously?

Blair: Hello?

Her last message had come in at least a few hours ago. It was too early to call her unless I could find the information we were looking for in these old texts.

I picked up the old book and looked down at the page, finding a curl of auburn hair stretched across the words. Madison’s hair.

This wasn’t just about my family.

This would affect hers, too.

Now how the bloody hell was I going to figure this out?

I picked up the small strand then carefully placed it on the lamp next to me like a reminder.

If it took all day—darn, if it took days—I’d figure out how to make this work for all of us.

I only had to get started.

…

“Hello? Are you alive? Awake? Dead?” The voice pushed through my clouded sleepy haze.

My head pounded as I lifted it from the stack of books, rubbing my eyes as I adjusted to the light.

When had I fallen asleep?

And who the heck was the lad in the blue suit looking at me like I’d just kissed his mother?

“Obviously I’m not dead,” I muttered, raking my fingers through my hair, which now was standing up at all ends from laying on the hard desk. And from running my hands through it in frustration.

I was still no closer to figuring out how to help neither the MacWebleys nor Madison’s family. Even after going through almost every book or ledger I could find. With only a few days until the wedding, this was a ticking time bomb. Sure, if the wedding happened, Madison would get what she wanted, but then what would I tell my family?

My great-grandfather?

That I’d spent every dime on this trip for nothing?

Shite, that made the pounding in my head even worse.

“What are you doing, sleeping in the library?” the man asked, his hands in his pocket as he tilted his head. Same statue-like features with high cheekbones. Light blond hair styled to perfection. Tailored suit. Glaring dark blue eyes.

Definitely a Webley.

“Was doing some research before the wedding,” I said, standing up and stretching out my arms as I smiled at the guy. “What about you, Hugh? Just got in?”

He blinked hard, taking a step back. “I beg your pardon. Have we met?”

So it was the middle brother of the Webley family, and this one had more of a tell than his older brother. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to get to know more about him. Maybe he had more information than Gavin was willing to share.

Rounding the desk, I pushed my hand toward him. “Laird Lachlan Jacob MacWebley the Third, your cousin, I believe. But you can just call me Jacob.”

His body stiffened as he stared at my outstretched palm before grasping it with his own. “Nice to meet you, Jacob. My brother did tell me you would be staying with us. I simply expected to meet you at breakfast, not sleeping in the library.”

I forced a pleasant smile. “I had trouble sleeping, so I thought I’d do a little family research. Guess the stuff was so riveting, it put me right down for a nap.”

He quirked an eyebrow, dropping his hand after we shook. The man obviously knew I wasn’t on the up and up, but he was too much of a gentleman to question it.

“Right.”

“So I’ll see you at breakfast, then? Or were ye looking to start planning the stag that Lady Elizabeth was going on about?” I asked, purposefully poking the bear.

He laughed. “Now I see why my pain-in-the-arse brother isn’t fond of you. You’re too cheery for him.”

“Is that a bad thing? He doesn’t like to smile much, does he?”

He shook his head. “Not unless he’s with Natalie and they’re talking about some history thing or another. Has that woman explained the entire backstory of every wall sconce to you yet?”

“Can’t say that I’ve spent enough time with her to do that yet.”

I made a mental note to do so. Maybe she’d be better than any book to help me get the information I needed on Webley.

“Ah, yes, you’re here with her sister, aren’t you? Haven’t gotten the pleasure to meet her yet.” The smile widened on his face.

“Yes, I’m Miss Madison’s date.” It was on the tip of my tongue to say something more. But what were we?

Friends?

Friends who snogged and thought about the other friend naked?

That, too.

“Well, I look forward to meeting her as well. Maybe we can all get in a round of croquet or something later.”

I shook my head, letting out a single, humorless laugh. “I don’t think she’s much of a croquet girl.”

“So you and I should just head to the veranda and have breakfast over a cigar and a pint of scotch, then? I think there are at least a few in the wine cellar.” He raised an eyebrow.

I glanced at the large clock on the wall. “It’s not even noon.”

“Is that a ‘no’?”

After the night, and technically morning, I’d had, I could use a good drink, and maybe a talk with the cheerier of the brothers.

“If we add it to our coffee, I think it’s considered a breakfast food,” I said.

He laughed, pointing a finger at me. “I knew I’d like you.” With that, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapping at the screen. “All right, breakfast ordered, including a good coffee.”

“I could use it,” I said as we started out of the library then down the hallway.

I couldn’t help but let my gaze wander around, looking for a certain brush of auburn hair. But something else caught my eye as I stopped at one of the oil paintings. One I’d recognized being similar to one that used to hang in Great-Grandfather’s chambers.

Most of the oil paintings I’d seen had been frescos or portraits of family members, but this was the first landscape I’d seen.

And not just any