I Became the Heroine’s Stand-in - Chapter 88

“Let’s end this here.”

The Countess, who had remained silent throughout the meal, abruptly interrupted the conversation.

She set down her utensils with a sharp clatter and dabbed her lips with a serviette.

Her gaze, lifted just enough to show her displeasure, soon turned sharply toward Diana.

“My dear, there’s no need to bring up a finished conversation in front of others.”

“But I was just…”

“Everyone in this household knows how dearly you love your father. But even so, that doesn’t justify diminishing his standing. This is your first meeting with His Grace, and yet you speak of your father’s capabilities so carelessly—it’s quite rude.”

So, this was the Countess’s counterattack—a move to shame Diana in front of the audience, hoping they’d think, “Yes, Lillian really did go too far.”

“…Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was being rude.”

The once cheerful girl now murmured in a small, dispirited voice, bowing her head deeply in apology.

“Mother, since Father spoke that way earlier, I thought it was okay for me too… I suppose I’m still far from being an adult.”

Even so, Diana had no intention of retreating. She couldn’t allow her standing to be damaged without fighting back.

A few sentences quietly escaped her slightly parted lips.

“We spoke that way?”

“Despite it being His Grace’s first visit, you both proposed a business deal so directly. I thought that meant this was an informal setting, and I acted accordingly.”

“That’s…!”

“Perhaps I was mistaken, and that wasn’t appropriate. I must have been thoughtless.”

Her voice, tinged with regret, sounded as though she might burst into tears at any moment—and the attending servants sympathized.

Yes, the Count and Countess had broached the business topic first, and given the rushed circumstances, she merely replied honestly. Could she really be blamed for that?

Even those eavesdropping behind the scenes seemed to be in full agreement.

Whether from tension or the thrill of watching the Count and Countess fall into her trap, Diana’s hands trembled.

Her unsteady fingers were suddenly enveloped in warmth.

A hand, about two finger-widths larger than her own. Usually cold, but strangely warm when touching hers.

It was Ersivan Valencia’s hand.

She couldn’t turn her head—not with the Count watching.

But it didn’t matter. She didn’t need to meet his eyes or read his thoughts. Just his touch was enough to calm her.

“I believe the Countess sensed I was in an awkward position. We already have several ventures ongoing, so frankly, adding more would be burdensome.”

Ersivan, until now excluded as if he were merely an observer, finally spoke, stepping in to put an end to the matter.

“I had planned to mention this privately later, but since the Count seems eager to proceed immediately, I’ve been a bit at a loss. I think my wife noticed and tried to handle it herself.”

“…”

“If I outright refused, it would seem I was turning my back on beloved in-laws. But if I went along with it blindly, I’d be neglecting my own responsibilities.”

Once again, Diana thought quietly—no one in the Empire could match Ersivan.

He could craft a scenario, write a compelling script, and perform flawlessly—all within a short time.

Not only did he resolve the situation smoothly, he even framed Diana as the devoted daughter, successfully salvaging her image.

“Rather than reproach her, wouldn’t it be more appropriate to commend her? From what I see, she did her utmost in her position. In fact, I believe she handled it perfectly.”

“…Forgive me. I didn’t realize you were in a difficult spot.”

In the end, the Count and Countess had no choice but to yield. When someone clearly stated their position, there was nothing more to demand.

“No need to apologize. You had good intentions for me, yet I couldn’t reciprocate. I’m the one who’s at fault.”

Outwardly, the conversation seemed to end on a warm, harmonious note.

“Shall we enjoy dessert? It looks delightful—and we can’t ignore the chef’s hard work.”

Ersivan, smiling innocently, picked up his fork and knife to begin. The Count and Countess followed suit, still dazed.

Despite being served their favorite sweets, the Count and Countess barely touched them, too troubled to eat.

Diana, on the other hand, took a bite from the corner of her cake, perfectly at ease.

A sweet cocoa aroma lingered on her tongue. Unable to resist the rich flavor, she moved her fork once again.

From the tips of her toes, a sensation began to rise—creeping upward like a mist—pure, unfiltered exhilaration.

The Count, dancing like a puppet in her hands, was behaving exactly as she’d predicted.

Diana could barely contain the laughter bubbling inside her.

To think the Mernard couple, once so enormous, fearsome, and dangerous in her eyes, now seemed so incredibly small.

She never thought a day would come when she could stand tall and fight back against them.

Morning had broken, judging by the birds chirping relentlessly in her ears. With one hand covering an ear, she opened her eyes and—despite sitting up—dozed off again.

Her drooping head bobbed up and down, and when her chin finally touched her chest, she jolted awake.

She rubbed her lips with the back of her hand, her eyes with her fingers. Then, after pushing back her tousled hair behind her ears, she sat in silence for a moment.

“…It’s probably better if I get ready alone today.”

Normally, she would have rung the bell the moment she woke, summoning a maid to help her dress.

But everything felt like a chore now, even following familiar routines. She had no desire to impress anyone, nor could she find a reason to push through her fatigue.

Resolving to get ready on her own, she opened the wardrobe. Upon seeing the lavishly stuffed rows of dresses, she let out a wry laugh.

So many colors and styles, yet none caught her eye. Of course—they were all tailored to Lillian’s tastes.

Having dressed in clothes more suited to her own preferences back at the duke’s estate, she had completely forgotten what Lillian’s style was like.

She realized now how long she had been forcing herself into ill-fitting clothes.

After rifling through the options, Diana finally pulled out the plainest, most modest dress she could find.

Unsure of how to manage her hair, she simply pinned it up in a loose bun. A light touch of powder at the vanity, and she stepped out of the room.

“Oh! You’re awake?”

The maid—the niece of her former nanny—spotted her and rushed over.

Her eyes briefly scanned Diana, a flicker of confusion passing over her face.

Perhaps it was the unusual outfit, or the fact that Diana had prepared herself without assistance.

Yesterday could be explained away as newly arrived from the duke’s estate, but today, her appearance differed significantly from Lillian’s usual style.

“You should’ve called for a maid. Why trouble yourself?”

“I woke on my own, so it felt right to prepare myself too.”

The maid looked at her with shining, admiring eyes, clearly touched by the thoughtfulness.

It was a quick excuse, created on the spot to avoid saying she didn’t want to face them. Yet the maid believed it completely, and Diana was overcome with guilt.

“Are you hungry? Would you like to go eat?”

“I am, but… isn’t it a bit late?”

“Oh, the Count and Countess already finished their meal. They had business to attend to today.”

“Mother and Father?”

Diana paused mid-step on her way to the dining room. As she halted, the maid nodded, confirming she had heard correctly.

After behaving like they planned to be with her constantly, they were suddenly off doing their own thing.

“And His Grace? Did he eat?”

“I believe not yet. I heard he just went downstairs.”

Thank goodness—she wouldn’t have to share breakfast with the Count and Countess.

Since Ersivan had just gone down, if she hurried, she could still join him.

Diana hurried down the corridor to the dining room.

Just as she arrived, a steaming dish was placed before Ersivan—his meal had just been served.

“We’ll bring yours out shortly, Madam.”

A waiting servant pulled out the seat opposite Ersivan for her.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning to you.”

Soon, bread and soup were set before her.

She first sipped cool water to cleanse her palate, then tore off a corner of bread and dipped it into the soup. The soft bread and creamy soup melted together in her mouth.

“The Count and Countess said they had personal business today.”

“So I heard.”

“Do you have anything in particular you’d like to do?”

“Hm. Since I’m the guest, shouldn’t the decision fall to you, Madam?”

“Unfortunately, I’m out of ideas. So I’ll just trail after you like a puppy.”

His tone made it sound like he meant to follow her around loyally, like a dog to its master.

Though, in his case, that dog might be more like a Doberman… or a Cerberus.

“Hmm…”

She reached for the salad this time. Chewing the crisp, fresh lettuce, she pondered carefully.

Where should I take him?

Given Ersivan’s personality, he probably wouldn’t enjoy sightseeing. Still, it was natural to want to spend meaningful time together.

As countless options flitted through her mind, something suddenly struck her—a memory, vivid and insistent, demanding to be remembered.

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