If You're Going to Sell Yourself, Sell It to Me - Chapter 97

Georgiana never particularly enjoyed going out.

Like a cat taking its routine stroll, she preferred walking within designated areas, cycling through the same familiar places. However, ever since Locke arrived, her range had gradually expanded as she sought to avoid him.

She often ran into him while roaming the mansion.

So, when she received news that the tea leaf merchant wouldn’t be able to visit the estate today due to unforeseen circumstances, she volunteered to go into town herself.

But then—

Just as she climbed into the carriage, planning to take her time in town before returning late, she found Locke already sitting inside, waiting for her.

Dressed in a light morning coat with a fitted vest, it was unmistakably an outfit meant for going out.

“What is this? Why are you here?”

Startled, Georgiana widened her eyes and whispered in a voice only he could hear.

“I have business in town as well.”

“Then go alone. I’ll take another carriage.”

As she turned to leave, he leaned forward slightly and asked in a quiet voice, “Do you really need to go that far to avoid me? Wouldn’t that attract even more attention?”

Just as he said, the coachman was watching her hesitantly, confused as to why she wasn’t getting in.

“I didn’t know someone else was inside.”

Hearing her murmur, the coachman finally remembered his mistake and bowed his head apologetically.

“I forgot to inform you that the Count was already here. My apologies.”

“Ah, it’s fine.”

“Since Rex has already taken the master out, I was the only one available, so I thought it best to take both of you at once… If it’s uncomfortable, I can take you now and return in the afternoon for the Count.”

Georgiana had been considering using another carriage from the estate, but after hearing the explanation, she found herself in a difficult position.

Raymond’s plantation was located in the southernmost part of the region, meaning a trip to town took at least two hours by carriage. She couldn’t justify making the coachman travel the long round trip just for her.

Yet, spending two hours alone with Locke was just as unthinkable.

As she hesitated, Locke offered a compromise. “I’ll get off. I was just heading to buy clothes since my old ones no longer fit properly, but it’s not urgent—I can go another time.”

Only then did she turn to look at him properly.

His face was noticeably thinner than before. She immediately guessed why his clothes no longer fit.

Though he was still tall and well-built compared to others, it was clear that he had lost weight since their time on the ship.

For a brief moment, an unexplainable pang of sympathy flickered in her eyes.

Watching him reach for the crutch leaning beside him, she sighed softly and climbed into the carriage without the coachman’s assistance.

“Let’s just go. We’re not strangers—it’s fine.”

At her words, the coachman sighed in relief and shut the carriage door.

Although the window was open, the enclosed space was quickly filled with his scent.

Unlike the aristocrats of the Empire, who wore overpowering colognes, Locke didn’t seem to use any fragrance, yet he had a pleasant scent.

As she breathed it in, she became acutely aware of her own scent and grew self-conscious.

If she could smell him this clearly, then surely he could also smell her.

She didn’t like perfumes and preferred using soap she made herself from wildflowers and herbs grown on the estate. Even the scented oils she used were the lightest available, mixed with flower-extracted oils, making her fragrance barely noticeable.

Having passed through the kitchen on her way here, she suddenly worried she might smell like food and shook her head to dismiss the thought.

What did it matter if there was a slight scent?

Straightening her posture deliberately, she lifted her chin and stared out the window.

The carriage rattled into motion.

Locke, watching her, muttered in a slightly drained voice, “You really do seem much better than before.”

Despite knowing that responding would lead to more conversation, Georgiana couldn’t suppress her curiosity and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Your face, for one. You look much healthier than before. It seems life here suits you.”

“I told you it did.”

Of course, it hadn’t been easy to get to this point, but she answered cheerfully, pretending to have forgotten all the hardships.

“Do you plan to stay here permanently?”

“Yes. But managing the estate is too much for me, so once they find a replacement, I’ll take on a different role. Maybe as a maid or a kitchen worker.”

“Do you like this place that much?”

“Of course. Norfolk—no, this place feels like an open door to me. A place where I can go anywhere. The Empire I lived in was like a locked prison. Here, there’s no family to oppress me, no threats lurking around every corner—I can finally feel at ease.”

The officers were looking for people with unclear identities, but that wasn’t limited to her—it was simply the reality of this place.

And her body itself proved how much more at ease she had become.

Since arriving at the estate, she had experienced occasional stomach aches, but after two months, her cycle had returned, and the once irregular dates were becoming more consistent.

A visit to the female doctor confirmed that there was nothing wrong.

Her mental recovery had naturally led to physical improvement.

“I see. So the idea of coming to my estate wouldn’t even cross your mind.”

“What?”

Hearing something utterly ridiculous, she furrowed her brows and turned sharply toward him.

“I’m joking.”

Though he said that, the bitter smile on his face held no trace of humor.

By now, she couldn’t help but be curious.

He had left his estate empty for over a year—who had been managing it? He acted as if it didn’t matter, but considering his use of a crutch and his noticeable weight loss, he needed someone to care for him.

“If you’ve been away this long, who’s taking care of your estate?”

“Someone, I suppose.”

“Don’t joke around.”

At her scolding, Locke tapped his knee with his fingers as if recalling something.

“The butler and a few maids should still be there.”

“Then don’t you need to hire more people?”

“I suppose I’ll need a coachman now, and since someone enjoys flowers, I should also get a gardener.”

His gaze burned when he spoke about flowers.

She didn’t need to ask who he was referring to.

Feeling her face heat up for no reason, Georgiana quickly turned her eyes back to the window.

“When will your leg heal?”

“It’ll take another two months, give or take.”

“So you’re planning to stay here until then?”

Horrified, she stared at him, but he replied in a subdued tone.

“That seems best… But I can’t impose forever. If Raymond tells me to leave, I will.”

She knew Raymond wasn’t the type to do that, but the weary tone in Locke’s voice made her uneasy.

He needed to recover quickly.

She stole a glance at his leg, but since his trousers covered the bandages, it was impossible to tell how bad it was.

Neither she nor Locke were particularly talkative people, so the carriage soon fell into silence.

She opened a book she had brought, but not a single letter registered in her mind.

She could feel his gaze lingering on her.

Of course, she couldn’t just tell him outright to stop looking at her.

So instead, she stubbornly turned the pages, her head slowly tilting downward.

Ever since Locke’s arrival, she had been struggling to sleep properly. Combined with the gentle rocking of the carriage, it felt as if she were being lulled in a cradle.

The cool autumn breeze only made it harder to stay awake.

With her bonnet tied at an angle, she couldn’t lean back properly, so she began dozing off in her seat.

Strangely enough, whenever she was near him, sleep overtook her easily.

Unaware of the scenery flashing past, she had just fallen into a deep sleep when the coachman suddenly slowed the carriage to avoid a puddle, jolting her awake.

Still drowsy, she blinked at her tilted posture and realized just how much the carriage had swayed.

Then she noticed something else—her neck felt oddly light.

The ribbon that should have been tied under her chin was gone. When she reached up, she felt something firm beneath her fingers.

What is this?

Puzzled, she straightened up—only to realize that the seat opposite her, where Locke had been sitting, was now empty.

He hadn’t turned into her bonnet, had he?

But there, in his seat, lay only her hat.

Then, could it be—

Her face drained of color as she looked up and immediately realized the truth.

She had fallen asleep leaning against Locke’s shoulder.

And the firm sensation her hand had brushed against earlier—

Was his chest.

Slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream, she barely held herself together.

She had been about to demand when she had shifted over to his side, but then—

“Did you rest well?”

Locke’s voice, unusually relaxed, reached her ears.

She barely managed to keep her lips from parting.

Rustle.

The walls she had worked so hard to build around herself since Locke’s arrival were slowly starting to crack.