If You're Going to Sell Yourself, Sell It to Me - Chapter 133

Just like the cloudless weather, Locke had been in the highest of spirits over the past three weeks.

Ever since he received a proposal from Georgiana, he had pinched his cheek multiple times, wondering if it was all a dream.

Even today, the first thing he did upon opening his eyes was pinch his cheek.

Though the nightmares were long gone, he still feared that he might wake to find himself back in a military barrack, as if all of this were nothing but a dream.

That was how happy—and how relentlessly busy—he had been.

In the meantime, he even moved into a new house.

It was just a few minutes’ walk down from Angus’s estate. Once the residence of a colonial governor during the New World’s days as a colony, it was as large and grand as Angus’s mansion. With spacious gardens at both the front and back, he had paid several times the market price but was satisfied.

He had given instructions to the butler to furnish the entire home according to Georgiana’s taste.

He couldn’t forget her surprised expression when he invited her over after everything was prepared.

Recalling that moment with a pleased smile, Locke tied a white lace cravat neatly.

Over that, he wore a gray doublet with sapphire buttons and a dark gray jacket tailored perfectly to his figure. Since it was a special day, he even tucked a crisply folded handkerchief into his pocket—something he normally skipped.

Now, all that remained before leaving the house was to put on a hat matching his jacket.

“Whistle—if you told me today was your wedding, I’d believe it.”

Henry, who had shown up dressed properly for the first time in a while, whistled in admiration.

“Is it too much?”

Locke scratched his cheek as he checked himself in the mirror again.

“No. It might’ve looked over-the-top on someone else, but you’re fine, Count. Your face outshines the outfit anyway.”

As Henry gave him a teasing thumbs-up, Locke narrowed his eyes at him.

“Just kidding. You really look great. It’s not for the election, is it? You must have some other motive?”

“Motive… come on.”

Locke trailed off, avoiding Henry’s eyes, which still held a knowing glint.

There were no other candidates besides Angus and Locke—it had come down to a simple approval vote.

Even with no chance of losing, Locke had stayed on edge to the very end, wary of anything going awry.

“What about your parents?”

“They’ve already gone to the polling station. They said they had to capture the moment you became Vice President in history and hired several photographers at exorbitant rates. Honestly, I think they like you more than they like me.”

Henry’s parents, the Marquis and Marchioness of Marker, were businessmen from the East and listed among the electors.

Locke was willing to bet his entire fortune that the Marchioness had come not for the election but to see her son, who rarely showed up.

It was obvious that at least one of the photographers would be focused on Henry rather than him.

The thought made him laugh—and feel a little sorry toward the Marchioness.

Her beloved son wouldn’t be leaving this place anytime soon.

“Shall we head out, then?”

Locke received the hat from the attendant and stepped out of the room.

“You’re leaving already? There’s still time, isn’t there?”

“No harm in going early. I should check that everything’s secure.”

Although Georgiana didn’t have voting rights, as a member of Angus’s family, she could wait in the banquet hall connected to the polling station with the other electors’ families.

Locke wouldn’t feel at ease until he checked for himself that everything was safe where Georgiana would be.

Behind him, Henry shook his head in exasperation.

Just as Locke was about to leave the mansion, a welcome visitor arrived.

It was Raymond, who was supposed to have arrived days ago but had been delayed by matters at home.

Raymond was also attending the election as a large plantation owner. Due to many plantations still recovering from the riots, it had finally become his turn.

“What took you so long?”

“Angela caught a cold and wouldn’t let me go. I waited until she was fully recovered and only just made it in time.”

“A cold? Is she really okay now?” Locke’s eyes widened as he asked.

It wasn’t even winter yet—how could that small body have caught a cold?

“She’s all better now. But she kept insisting on coming with me, so I had to pry her off. I think she wanted to see Leona.”

Raymond let out a small sigh.

“Well… she is really fond of Georgiana, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. Probably likes her as much as she likes you. Since I’m here, I was thinking of hiring a good governess—offering extra pay if I have to.”

“Right. Leona won’t be going back anymore anyway.”

“…I guess not.”

Raymond could no longer ask Georgiana to take care of the estate or be Angela’s governess. With Angus’s election essentially guaranteed, there was no reason for her to return to Norfolk.

There were other reasons too, but it made Raymond feel as though Georgiana had left them behind. It was a bittersweet thought.

Locke watched Raymond quietly for a moment, then gestured to his carriage.

“Want to ride together?”

“Sure, why not.”

“I’ll follow in my own carriage,” Henry said.

Sensing the atmosphere, Henry discreetly excused himself.

Raymond, leaving his weary horse and coachman to rest, climbed into Locke’s carriage.

Since both of them were large-framed, the not-so-small carriage felt cramped. If Henry had been there too, it might’ve been suffocating.

Perhaps because they hadn’t exchanged many words, the air between them felt heavy.

Breaking the weighty silence, Locke opened his mouth.

“After the election, I’m going to marry Georgiana.”

“I figured as much.”

Raymond had been certain of Georgiana’s feelings turning toward Locke after his injury. Though it stung, he knew better than anyone that hearts couldn’t be forced, and he could no longer beg her to accept his.

There was no longer a need to protect her through a fake marriage, nor to attempt any schemes to get between them.

“Will you be okay?”

It was the first time his brother had ever looked to him for approval. He must have sensed Raymond’s feelings while they were living together on the estate.

“If I won’t be okay? On the way here, I thought about it a lot, and I realized—it wasn’t as a woman that I was drawn to her.

It was a desire to have a good person on my side.”

Her kind actions, her strength, her incorruptible nobility—

And the fact that Angela adored her had also played a big part in shaping his affection.

He had fallen for those qualities and wanted to hold onto her because of them. But precisely because of those qualities, he believed Locke was the better match.

The more he saw them, the more alike they seemed.

They would probably live happily for a long, long time.

Raymond had already cleaned up his lingering feelings when he left the plantation.

“You’re the first one I’ve told. I’m glad I said it.”

Seeing Locke’s face, lighter than ever, Raymond felt once more that he’d made the right decision.

Before long, the carriage arrived at the round-domed assembly hall.

The entrance was already packed with reporters.

Since it was the election of the New World’s first president, there were quite a few journalists from overseas as well.

After the electors had entered, invited reporters would wait in a separate lounge inside the banquet hall for the results.

Immediately after the election, those with family ties to the electors would be allowed to attend the announcement and speech.

Everyone was eager to record history.

“It’s Count Locke Rivern!”

As he stepped down from the carriage, the reporters swarmed like bees.

“Count, do you believe today’s election is already decided in your favor?”

“What will your first official act be if elected?”

“Are you aware that you were voted the number one man single women want to marry?”

Whenever Locke’s photo appeared in the papers, the issues sold out. So every journalist snapped photos relentlessly, using up their expensive film.

Though Locke had suffered from the constant shutter-clicks since being named vice presidential candidate, today he welcomed the cameras.

“I will take all questions after the election. I’d appreciate it if you waited until then. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

The ever-silent Locke even flashed a smile, leaving the reporters stunned and frozen, forgetting to even take pictures as they watched his back.

***

By unanimous decision, Angus was elected as the first President of the Republic.

Following that, Locke, as expected, was elected Vice President without any surprises.

After Angus’s speech concluded, Locke stepped up onto the raised podium at the center of the banquet hall and bowed more respectfully than ever to the crowd.

“Honored citizens, I offer my deepest gratitude for entrusting me with the great responsibility of serving as Vice President. Together with the President, I will strive to ensure the growth of this new Republic, by respecting diverse opinions and promoting cooperation among all regions. I promise to be a Vice President who never ceases in effort, so as not to betray the support and expectations of those who have placed their trust in me. Lastly, I would like to take this opportunity to make a confession to the woman I love, who helped bring me to this position.”

The momentous hall, filled with murmurs, fell utterly silent. All that could be heard was the sound of someone gulping.

Then, as Locke stepped down from the platform and walked toward someone, everyone’s eyes followed his movements—eyes alone, so as not to obstruct his path.

He was walking toward where Angus was seated.

Could it be…?

Passing beside Angus, whose expression said he hadn’t anticipated this moment, Locke knelt before the woman standing next to the President.

The motion was one of solemnity, like a knight pledging his life to his queen.

“Lady Evelyn Leona Seymour, will you marry me?”

Though it wasn’t their own proposal, everyone in the banquet hall felt their hearts leap.

Then, stepping forward from behind Angus’s guards, the woman in question placed a small, gloved hand into the one Locke held out.

As her face became visible, the journalists began pressing their shutters in a trance.

They were all certain of it.

Tomorrow’s newspapers would be a sellout.