If You're Going to Sell Yourself, Sell It to Me - Chapter 8

Standing awkwardly in the tension-filled room, Georgiana heard a cough beside her.

“Ahem, ahem. How do you two know each other?” the servant asked, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“You may leave now,” the man interrupted, dismissing the servant who had been eagerly watching them.

The servant seemed closer to the man than a typical servant to a noble, Georgiana observed. She stood there, hoping she would be the one to be dismissed, until the man began lighting the lamps in the room, brightening the space.

Scattered around were numerous unfinished paintings.

So, he really is a painter, she thought, relieved. She inspected the artworks curiously but was shocked to see sketches that revealed more than just the upper body of the models. The realization of why she was there hit her hard. Her pale face reflected in the nude sketches of unknown women.

The man pointed to a green velvet couch by the window.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” he asked.

“Pardon?” Georgiana replied, startled.

“Please, have a seat,” he instructed.

“…Alright,” she responded, hesitantly sitting down.

He gestured to the empty table in front of her. “I dismissed the servant, but if you wish, I can call him back to serve tea.”

“No, it’s alright,” Georgiana replied. In her current state, she couldn’t imagine drinking hot tea without choking. It was better to endure the thirst.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Unlike at the theater, the man now treated her with a courteous, almost gentlemanly manner. Georgiana, however, remained tense, trying to discern whether his current demeanor or the previous one was his true nature. His ever-changing demeanor made it difficult to figure him out.

As she nervously licked her dry lips, he slowly walked toward her, each step echoing gracefully on the floor. His approach was so elegant and precise it seemed almost rehearsed.

Suddenly, he reached out, and before she could react, he swiftly removed her coat. Startled, she flinched like a frightened animal, sitting there in just her blouse. He hung her coat on the wall and smiled.

“I’m not going to ask you to remove any more clothing right now, so there’s no need to be so tense.”

“Pardon?”

“I meant you can remove your hand from your blouse. Watching you clutch it so tightly makes me feel like you’re strangling yourself.”

Georgiana looked down and realized she was gripping the front of her blouse with one hand. She had been holding it so tightly that the fabric was creased.

The man dragged a large easel to the center of the room and studied her as she sat stiffly. With his hand on his chin, he seemed to be contemplating something, clearly dissatisfied with her pose.

Trying to read his expression, Georgiana straightened her posture even more.

“You must have received etiquette training. Your posture is very proper,” he commented.

“Yes, just a little,” she admitted.

“Considering that, your posture is quite good. However, it makes you look stiff and uncomfortable. Could you turn your body to the right?”

“Like this?” she asked, adjusting her position.

He still seemed unsatisfied as she shifted to the opposite side. Seeing this, Lockwood approached her again, his expression thoughtful.

“Well, it’s clear you’re not a dancer,” he said, hinting at her lack of flexibility.

Georgiana glanced at him nervously as he gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Despite not touching her skin directly, his touch felt searingly hot, causing her face to flush with heat.

“If you lean a bit more this way… Oh, you’re even more stiff now,” he observed.

No one outside her family had ever been this close to her, and the proximity left her flustered. He chuckled at her wooden posture.

“Let’s forget about the pose for now. How about trying to smile?” he suggested.

She awkwardly tried to lift the corners of her mouth, but smiling in front of him felt like contorting her face muscles in all the wrong ways.

“…Alright, let’s forget about smiling too,” he said, stifling a laugh as he returned to his position.

His once cold gaze seemed softer now, and the unexpected gentleness made Georgiana look at him more intently until his face was obscured by a large canvas. The sound of pencil and charcoal against paper, accompanied by his low, melodious voice, filled the room. Without seeing his face, his voice seemed even more captivating.

He appeared to be as reserved as she was, but perhaps to ease her nerves, he continued the conversation.

“You don’t seem like someone who frequents places like that,” he remarked.

“Excuse me? Oh, uh…”

Not knowing how to explain that night, she fumbled for words, but he seemed to guess her situation.

“Everyone has their circumstances. I imagine those circumstances led you here as a model,” he continued.

Georgiana nodded slightly, but his next words made her eyes widen.

“You have quite a wretched family. I didn’t expect your brother to actually send you in place of his debt. A madman who bets his sister at a gambling table… Oh, pardon my harsh words.”

“No, it’s alright,” Georgiana replied, understanding now that he hadn’t personally wanted her but had been forced by her brother’s decision. This realization eased her anxiety somewhat.

At least he’s not someone who trades people for money.

“I should introduce myself properly. I am Lockwood Limberton,” he said, his head poking out from behind the canvas.

“And I’m Georgiana Courtney.”

“May I call you by your first name? The surname Courtney brings to mind another Courtney I’d rather forget.”

“That’s fine,” she agreed, finally understanding his request.

“Georgiana,” he said, her name sounding strange yet new on his lips.

It’s like a fresh start, she thought, feeling a mix of emotions.

“Thank you for your help the other day. As I look for models, I often visit theaters and other places, and sometimes I’m mistaken for a suspicious person,” Lockwood explained.

Georgiana swallowed her retort that his actions had indeed seemed suspicious to her as well. Not everyone could hide behind a curtain so swiftly.

“Is that so?” she said instead.

“I prefer to avoid unnecessary trouble, but thanks to you, I managed to escape smoothly.”

“It was nothing, really.”

“You were a great help just by pretending not to see me. You’re quite a good actress, you know.”

As he lightly laughed, recalling that day, Lockwood’s expression appeared more radiant than a masterpiece. Even his slightly curved lips seemed to sparkle. Georgiana, half-dazed, found herself staring at him, her face flushing as she belatedly lowered her head.

The conversation dwindled as he focused more on his drawing. Although she had to maintain the same pose for a long time, her worries eased when he didn’t ask her to undress or make any unreasonable demands. She felt much more comfortable on the long couch.

He doesn’t seem like a professional painter, she thought.

His strong arms, visible even outside the easel, made him look more like a soldier or a policeman than an artist. The prominent muscles and veins on his arms suggested he was used to physical work. Those muscles weren’t built overnight.

It seemed odd for such a man to be painting nudes, but the unfinished artworks scattered around the room looked quite good, even to her untrained eye. Although she found it awkward to stare at them for too long, as artistic as they might be, she still struggled to accept the sight of naked bodies in paintings.

She feared the day he might ask her to pose nude, even if it wasn’t today.

How much time had passed?

Her stomach growled, breaking the silence. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to reach his ears. Georgiana adjusted her clothes, trying to quiet her rumbling stomach.

It must be dinner time by now…

She glanced around, but with the heavy curtains drawn tightly, it was impossible to tell the time.

She remembered she hadn’t eaten properly since morning and realized she had been fasting all day. The thought of her mother and brother who would be angry if she were late for dinner preparations crossed her mind.

It was surprising how much she had been absorbed in her current situation, completely forgetting about the two who usually haunted her like a nightmare.

They were both incapable of doing anything on their own, so they were surely waiting for her to return. Especially Willow, who had come home only in the morning, would likely still be sleeping if nothing else had happened. He wouldn’t have gone out yet.

Even though she had been pushed into this situation by them, she could easily imagine their anger if she returned late. Willow, especially, had recently become quick to raise his hand, not just his voice. The thought of him made her shudder, causing her previously straight posture to waver.

“Is something bothering you?” Lockwood asked, peering out from behind the canvas as he observed her fidgeting.

Hoping it hadn’t been too long, given the darkness of the room, she cautiously asked, “Do you know what time it is?”

“Ah,” he replied, the sound of a pocket watch clicking open following his response.