If You're Going to Sell Yourself, Sell It to Me - Chapter 90

Although the South had not been greatly affected by the war, the streets somehow felt unsettled. There were almost as many patrolling officers as in Northwest or Rudelly.

Rumors had spread that, taking advantage of the war’s end, many groups in the South had begun calling for the abolition of slavery. Perhaps that was why the atmosphere felt so tense.

Locke, seated in a tea shop he often visited when in Norfolk, sipped his usual coffee while keeping an eye on the street outside.

Before long, he saw several raggedly dressed people being dragged away by officers.

If the war had not ended, he and Henry would have had to avoid the officers just like them. But now, there was no longer any need.

With independence secured, their crimes had been erased, and their bounty notices rescinded. Even Edmund, who had been expected to hire mercenaries for revenge, had been recalled to the Empire.

He should have been removed long ago.

Yet, there was nothing for Locke to smile about.

As soon as the war ended, he had left the military, wanting to abandon everything.

Whether as a lieutenant colonel or a full colonel, none of it mattered to him anymore.

To Locke, the entire world had turned to gray.

Angela was his only source of joy.

That was why he had packed his things and come here without delay.

How such an angel had come from someone as unlikable as Raymond was a mystery to him.

Every time he saw her, he found himself wondering about it.

Unlike Henry, who had visited Georgiana a few months ago, Locke had not set foot in Norfolk for a year and a half. Children changed rapidly at that age, so he was curious to see how Angela had grown.

Locke glanced at the dollhouse beside Henry.

She should like it.

But he worried it might be too childish for a seven-year-old. The thought nagged at him.

“What about the carriage?”

“It should be ready soon.”

“We leave as soon as it arrives.”

“Understood.”

He wanted to leave immediately, but the coachman had insisted the horses needed rest, forcing him to wait.

Henry, who had been complaining about the heat just moments before, had already finished his tea and set down his empty cup.

“The estate has been empty for a long time. We’ll need to hire new servants. Right now, only the butler, the cook, and two maids remain. Until we find enough staff, why don’t you stay at Lord Raymond’s estate?”

“That won’t be necessary. I just want to see Angela and leave. I managed just fine on my own in the barracks; this number of people is enough.”

“Still—”

“Worry about yourself. You should go home soon—back to the East.”

Locke couldn’t understand why Henry, who had a house and family, was still lingering by his side.

“Where would I even go? Even if I were to leave, I don’t think I could rest easy without seeing with my own eyes that you, Colonel—no, Count—are doing well.”

“Nonsense.”

“I mean it. What about the nightmares? They’re still happening, aren’t they?”

“It’s fine now. The war is over.”

Though he lied to reassure Henry, the truth was that Locke had been plagued by nightmares ever since Georgiana’s death.

Even now, awake, his world felt no less like hell.

Though he feigned indifference, he was drowning in the aftermath of the war and Georgiana’s loss.

At least on the battlefield, exhaustion had granted him sleep. Now, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had rested properly.

The shadows beneath his eyes were as indelible as her memory.

Seeing him like this, Henry pressed on. “Still, you should see a doctor, just in case. You need a proper examination. Besides, your leg hasn’t fully healed.”

Henry’s concerned gaze drifted to the crutch propped against Locke’s chair.

His calf, broken in the final battle, still required at least ten more days to fully heal. The doctor had been astonished by how quickly he recovered compared to others.

Locke had been too indifferent to his own pain to care, intending to walk without support. But he had no choice but to use the crutch when warned that improper healing could leave him with a lifelong limp.

“I know my body best. As long as it heals, that’s all that matters.”

“Even so—”

“The carriage is here. Let’s go.”

At the perfect timing, Locke noticed the approaching carriage, tossed a few coins on the table, and rose from his seat.

Muttering complaints under his breath, Henry picked up the toy beside him and followed.

***

Lately, with more and more slaves escaping, officers had started coming to Raymond’s plantation in pursuit of fugitives.

“Any new workers here?”

The officer’s sharp gaze darted past Georgiana, who stood barring the doorway, trying to peer inside. If not for her presence, he seemed ready to kick down the door and storm in.

“No, we haven’t hired anyone new. Our staff has remained the same for months, and we have no need for additional workers.”

She shook her head firmly.

With tobacco harvest season in full swing, there was already an overwhelming amount of work to do. Having officers show up unannounced like this was nothing but a nuisance.

Though the war had ended and she had been removed from the wanted list, meaning they could no longer arrest her, Georgiana still felt uneasy around officers. She had no fond memories of them.

She knew that if she offered them money, they would leave. But she had no intention of stooping to such tricks. If anything, it would only encourage them to come back more often—something she had learned well from Willow.

If necessary, she was even willing to show them the registry.

“We’ll leave for now, but there will be a large-scale search soon. I hope you’re not harboring runaway slaves or anyone of uncertain identity.”

Leaving a cold warning behind, the officers finally departed.

Georgiana leaned against the doorframe, her legs trembling.

If they were targeting people of uncertain identity, that included her.

Marianne had hidden her identity papers, fearing she would cause trouble. Before boarding the ship, the only identification she had was the fake one given to her by Locke.

And she had lost that while on the run.

Unless she returned to the Empire, proving her identity in this vast land was impossible.

If they came back and demanded her identification, she would have no way out.

Runaway slaves were typically sent back to their original plantations, but those whose identities couldn’t be verified were sometimes forcibly placed on ships bound for the Empire.

She needed to find a solution before that happened.

“Ms. Leona, could you take a look at this?”

“Yes, I’ll be right there.”

At the voice of a maid calling her, Georgiana forced herself to relax and quickly walked over. There was no time to dwell on her personal worries.

“It was perfectly fine yesterday, but now the ends are torn. I’m so sorry.”

The distressed maid pointed at the long curtain overlooking the garden.

The moment Georgiana saw the frayed edges, she immediately thought of the culprit.

Becky, that little menace!

Lately, for some unknown reason, Becky had been scratching up the bedding, carpets, and anything else she could get her claws on.

Though she couldn’t openly blame Becky in front of the maid, Georgiana decided to send her away for now.

“It’s all right, Lil. I know it wasn’t your fault. I’ll mend the curtain myself, so you can go tend to your other tasks.”

“You really can do everything, Ms. Leona.”

The maid admired her before leaving. The younger maids often treated her like a problem-solver, relying on her for everything.

Months had passed since Georgiana took over managing the estate.

The position of head maid remained unfilled.

She still made mistakes and occasionally lost her way, but the estate was running smoothly, and for that, she was grateful.

Raymond had promised to find a capable replacement for her, but there was no sign of it happening.

Lately, he didn’t even seem to be trying.

She would have to ask him about it again soon.

Georgiana still felt unworthy of her current position.

After handling minor tasks and ensuring the harvested tobacco leaves were stored in the warehouse, evening had already set in.

With Raymond away, she had a simple meal with Angela and put the little girl to bed before retiring to her own room.

For some reason, the emptiness of the space felt more pronounced tonight.

Looking at the vacant bed, she clapped her hands together in realization.

“Where’s Becky?”

During the day, Becky wandered around, but at night, she always claimed either Angela’s or Georgiana’s bed.

It was strange that she was nowhere to be seen after dark.

Throwing a light shawl over her shoulders, Georgiana set out to search for Becky.

The most likely place was the garden.

Even at the tail end of summer, the flowers were still in full bloom, making it the perfect hiding spot for a cat. Sometimes, when she took walks, Becky would jump out as if to tease her.

Guided by those memories, Georgiana scanned the garden and soon spotted Becky darting toward someone.

‘She’s not the type to run like that. Did something happen?’

Worried about losing sight of Becky, she hurriedly followed.

At the far end of the garden, where it connected to the back entrance, Becky leaped into someone’s arms as if flying.

The man was tall, like Raymond.

With the lantern’s glow unable to fully reach him, Georgiana couldn’t make out his face. Instinctively, she took a step back.

The man, seemingly unaware of her presence, slowly stepped into the light, cradling Becky.

Just then, the clouds parted, revealing his face under the pale moonlight.

No… it couldn’t be.

Georgiana dropped to the ground in shock.