If You're Going to Sell Yourself, Sell It to Me - Chapter 108

“Slaves wouldn’t be riding horses, so they must be here to help us.”

Just as Locke said, before long, a group of men on horseback appeared before them. All were familiar faces.

“Bill!”

Georgiana waved broadly and called the name of the man at the front.

Bill dismounted in one leap and checked their condition. “Are you unharmed? We focused our search along the main road last night and only just found this place. I’m sorry we’re late.”

From the uncharacteristically long sentence and his haggard face, she realized he had been searching for her and Locke all night.

“I’m fine. Thank you for coming all this way.”

“Not at all. However…”

Bill glanced down at Georgiana’s dress, which reached only to her knees, and looked away in embarrassment. Seeing that, Locke stepped between them with a displeased expression.

“The Count is injured.”

“It happened because of me. He got shot helping me.”

“We’ll return to the estate immediately. Prepare the horses.”

Bill’s face filled with concern as he gave orders to the men behind him upon seeing Locke’s injured arm.

One of the men cleared a horse, and Locke and Georgiana mounted it together.

Naturally, Locke placed his arm around her waist and rested it across her lap, prompting another surprised look from Bill.

Before they departed, Locke looked around at the group and asked, “And Raymond?”

“He was taken to the estate last night.”

“Any injuries?”

“No. He’s safe.”

Hearing that Raymond was unharmed eased her mind.

“What happened to that plantation?”

“The house and fields were both completely destroyed. Even the tobacco fields were burned, and recovery seems impossible for the time being.”

“And the slaves?”

“Except for a few who escaped, all were killed. Among those they harmed were nobles, and the casualties were severe, so they were executed on the spot. The escapees will soon be caught.”

Though she had expected it, the grim reality still made her sigh.

The plantation owner might have wealth stored elsewhere, but she worried for those who had lost their homes and livelihoods.

Even more concerning was the likelihood that this wouldn’t be the only revolt.

Unless the nobles were willing to give up what they had, conflict with the slaves was inevitable. Georgiana feared that the spark might reach Raymond’s estate.

“Will our estate be all right?”

At the word our, Locke’s brow quirked upward.

“Since we have no slaves, there’s no chance of a revolt from within the estate, but we’re taking precautions in case of an outside attack. We’ve already asked the constables for help.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m worried about too.”

“Let’s get moving.”

Locke, who had been listening to their conversation with a sullen face, cut in and urged the group onward.

“What’s wrong?”

Not knowing what had upset him, she asked with a puzzled expression.

“I’m in pain.”

“Oh! Does it still hurt a lot?”

“Yes.” Locke nodded, his expression softening a little.

“You said earlier that you were fine.”

“That was because I didn’t want you to worry. But in reality, it hurts. A lot.”

He emphasized it several times.

True, even yesterday he had insisted he was fine until the moment he collapsed. If he was being this honest, he must really be in pain.

“We need to get you to a doctor right away. You might need stitches.”

“If they sew me up and wrap it, I probably won’t even be able to eat properly, right?”

He spoke in a dejected tone as if the world had ended, and Georgiana quickly replied, “I’ll help you.”

“That would mean a lot to me.”

“But… didn’t you say you were ambidextrous?”

At her curious question, Locke replied firmly, “I only use my right hand for knives. That’s how my parents taught me proper etiquette.”

“I… see.”

***

“Leona, are you all right?”

Even before they reached the front steps, Raymond—who had been waiting anxiously at the entrance—rushed out. His eyes were fixed solely on Georgiana, seated in front of Locke.

With a worried face, he reached out to help her down, but Locke quickly jumped off the horse first and lifted her down himself, one arm wrapped around her waist.

Raymond’s hand was left hanging awkwardly in the air, and his expression subtly hardened.

“Raymond, I’m sorry. The dress you gave me is completely ruined.”

As she apologized, Raymond—only now noticing her tattered outfit—blushed at the sight.

“If you’ve received it, that’s the end of it. Why apologize too? Leona, we should go inside quickly. The pain in my arm is getting worse.”

Locke, who had inserted himself into the conversation, clutched his injured arm and grimaced.

“How could you hold me with that arm?”

Forgetting they were in front of others, Georgiana scolded him.

“I forgot.”

“You can’t forget something like that! How long will it take for the doctor to arrive?”

Then, noticing the blank expressions of those who hadn’t grasped the situation, she urged them to call the doctor quickly.

“Um… Leona.”

In her hurry to support Locke, Georgiana didn’t even hear Raymond calling out to her from behind. He watched the two of them walking away with deepening suspicion, but only Bill, who stood beside him, noticed.

About thirty minutes later, the doctor arrived.

Georgiana quickly changed into something clean and stayed by Locke’s side until the doctor came.

Seeing him smiling dazedly at her the entire time, she wondered if he was just pretending to be sick—but the pain clearly wasn’t an exaggeration.

In the end, he needed ten stitches.

He winced involuntarily when the medical alcohol was poured onto the wound, but otherwise, Locke remained composed.

After completing the stitches and securing the wound with clean bandages, the doctor tilted his head in puzzlement.

“Count, how is your leg? I heard it was injured, but I don’t see any crutches. Don’t tell me you’ve been walking around on an injured leg like this?”

Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him use crutches since the day they met in the garden.

In fact, he moved faster than anyone, so she had completely forgotten that his leg was even injured.

“Now that you mention it… Locke—no, Count. How is your leg?”

“Ah, it still hurts. I’ve just been so tense these past two days I didn’t notice the pain. And right now, my arm hurts more, so I haven’t had the attention to spare for my leg.”

It seemed odd, but people pushed to their limits often displayed unexpected strength. She couldn’t doubt his words.

The doctor, too, nodded in agreement. “Indeed. When another area hurts, previous pain can sometimes be forgotten for a while. But since you’ve strained an unhealed leg, I strongly recommend resting until it’s fully recovered.”

The doctor gave a list of instructions along with the medication and then departed.

“You heard that, right?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll need to be careful with movement now… With Henry gone, unfortunately, I’m the only one left to help you…”

Seeing him trail off, Georgiana felt a renewed sense of responsibility.

“Of course I’ll help. But where is Henry?”

She asked, puzzled. It was odd not to see Henry by his side, especially since he usually assisted him with everything.

“As I mentioned on the ship before, I sent him to investigate matters related to your family. We hadn’t pursued it earlier, believing you had died, but we can’t delay any longer. I’m determined to uncover the truth.”

Georgiana was moved that he hadn’t forgotten the promise he made to her.

More than ever, she sincerely hoped that Willow and Marianne weren’t her real family. Even if her parents had truly passed away, she clung to the hope that her real family still existed somewhere.

“Thank you.”

At that moment, a loud growl came from Locke’s stomach.

“It’s not hunger—it’s the pain making that noise.”

He clenched his eyes shut and turned his now-reddened face sharply away.

Seeing this, Georgiana laughed heartily. “You must be hungry. You need to eat with the medicine, too. I’ll go ask them to prepare food right away.”

“Please hurry. As you know, I can’t really move on my own…”

“I know.”

Georgiana couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just been handed a large, needy dog to care for—but having seen him through the treatment, she resolved to take good care of him.

She asked a passing maid to bring food suitable for a patient, then encountered Raymond loitering outside Locke’s room. His expression was strained, as if he had indigestion.

“Raymond, what’s going on?”

“I need to speak with you. Do you have a moment?”

She remembered Locke asking her to return quickly, but thinking it might be a matter related to the estate, she nodded.

“I think I have a moment.”