Chapter 8 —Bewildered

Something changed after the duke's week-long visit to my bedside. One that befuddled both Lord Polan and me (to name the least). The painstakingly meticulous, unyielding duke completely changed his routine and behavior overnight.

No longer was he the absent father. Instead, he'd become the obsessively clingy father.

We were making another round in the greenhouse garden with a flustered Lord Polan tailing behind the duke and me. I peered over the duke's shoulder to see Lord Polan's cheeks puffing in and out with each desperate inhalation and exacerbated exhalation. His entire face was flushed, and his brow glistened in the late morning sun. He pushed his blue bangs back, palm cupping his forehead, eyes closed as he straightened up and gave in. 

"Your Grace, you cannot keep skipping work like this."

But the duke pretended not to hear the despairing aide, one completely dejected and desperate. Today was the first time I'd seen him since our chance meeting in the duke's office during the Marian debacle. And Lord Polan was an unbelievable sight. If I hadn't been so stunned, I probably would've laughed. Witnessing the dignified and endlessly composed Polan Covellite lose all composure and decorum was an amusing sight. What had Lord Polan so dejected, was the duke (like most all things).

But I was stunned speechless because there was no one more dignified than Polan Covellite. Lord Polan was the perfect aide: stoic, elegant, articulate, and dignified. I never would've imagined Lord Polan begging so helplessly as if he was pleading for his life. I also would've never guessed there was someone brave enough to scold the great and mighty tyrannical duke.

I was comfortable as I sat in the crook of the duke's arms with my red pinafore gathered against my knees. Since the doctor cleared me to resume my normal activities, the duke has been carrying me in his arms around the greenhouse garden every afternoon. The first time he took me to the garden, I screeched with my arms wildly flinging in the duke's face in an attempt to be released. Every time I'd asked to be put down, the duke acted as if he never heard me—much like how he was presently ignoring Lord Polan's begging and nagging. One would believe the duke was deaf by how unresponsive he was to Lord Polan's hysterics and my (earlier in the week) tantrums. But unlike Lord Polan, I'd finally conceded to the stubborn mule. Looking over the duke's shoulder with one foot swinging against the duke's abdomen, I sent Lord Polan my telepathic condolences for having such a bad boss.

I didn't blame Lord Polan for his irritation and exasperation. I felt much the same. I didn't particularly like these father-daughter teatimes. Rather, I was vehemently against them.  

When we finally reached the seating area in the middle of the garden, an array of snacks cheerfully greeted us, and all of my reason retired for the afternoon. There were petit four dusted with gold and adorned with candied lilacs, pastel macrons, apple slices, grapes, every berry under the sun, an oversized chocolate cake, an entire factory's worth of bonbons, and a warm tea set. My mouth watered at the sight.

Although I'd initially protested being carried by the duke, I quickly conceded to these daily dismal ducal carriage rides in the garden to delight in all the deliciousness Orzo's pastry chef had to offer. 

Look.

I didn't cave and did what the duke wanted just because of some snacks. It wasn't the yummy desserts that made me lower my guard and spend quality time with my father. I have more pride and dignity than to be lured and bought by pretty cakes and ripe fruit. I conceded and looked forward to this time each day because I knew the food was safe, and it would be a shame to waste the chef's efforts. It (most certainly) had nothing to do with the duke winning me over with snack time and pretty desserts.

This was about survival. Yes. This was purely about survival.

The duke sat me down on a stack of pillows in the seat across from his. On the first day he'd taken me on this impromptu stroll, he'd set me down on the soft chair cushion to learn that my forehead was level with the tabletop. Since then, we arrived at the table with pillows stacked almost as high as the glass ceiling. And, like every day, I threw a few pillows off my seat before settling in. Teetering on the edge every time, shortening every servant's life in the vicinity.

It was still awkward for me. I was unsure of what to say. I couldn't tell what the duke expected from me, and I still haven't figured out what he wanted. Not knowing was stressful as I feared this tiny bit of happiness could disappear at any moment, so I said nothing and observed him instead. And like all the other days (impatient and impulsive), I fisted a handful of berries in one hand and shoved a piece of cake into my mouth with my free hand while a tired Lord Polan slumped into the empty seat, guzzling down a cup of tea.

Lord Polan truly was amazing. Not only did he down hot tea like it was refreshing spring water, he fearlessly nagged the duke while inviting himself to the duke's teatime. Although Lord Polan was also a noble, his rank was far inferior to the duke. It's not only considered rude, but it was almost treated like taboo, to sit at the same table with one of higher rank unless you were explicitly invited by the highest ranking person. What's more shocking is that Lord Polan was not only of lower rank but the duke's direct subordinate. Essentially, a servant had plopped himself at the duke's table, interrupting his teatime with his daughter, drinking the duke's tea before the duke was even served, nagging the empire's most feared tyrant all while enjoying the duke's tea. Lord Polan was truly fearless, and I aspired to be as dauntless and witless.

Lord Polan's hands moved automatically while his mouth never stopped jabbering. The speed of his hands effortlessly moving was absolutely stunning. His movements were fluid and precise as he served the duke and me the tea I never drank. His eyes barely left the duke's as he placed the pretty candied flower cakes and pastel macrons on my plate before unfurling his handkerchief to wipe my purple stained hand and chocolate covered face as if it was the most natural thing to do. If one didn't know better, one would assume Lord Polan was my father and not the icicle across the table.

In the same smooth, but swifter, motion, the duke's unblemished white handkerchief slapped Lord Polan's hand away and wiped my chocolate muddled face. I stared at the duke's face in bewilderment. The uptight duke was leaning clear across the table, hovering over the delicate pastries to wipe my face. I blinked at him a few times as he roughly scrubbed my cheeks.

"You're so messy," the duke sounded annoyed.

"I'm eating," was my instant reply, "I'll do it."

I yanked the handkerchief from the duke's hand and clumsily rubbed the chocolate off my face, smearing it across my lips and cheeks. Lord Polan stifled a laugh as he placed more blueberries on my plate before handing me a small fork. The yummy blueberries made my face light up as I went on to stab the berries, causing them to gush purple onto the porcelain before stuffing them into my mouth.

I missed the duke's eyebrow twitch and his scowl toward Lord Polan because I was too engrossed in my food. My eyes were closed in happiness as I soaked in the sweetness of the ripped berries. When I opened my eyes again to skewer more blueberries, I was met with a stack of mixed berries and chocolate cake covering the petite four and macrons Lord Polan had set on the plate earlier. I blinked once, then twice in confusion with my fork still pointing upwards towards the sky, arm still raised mid-movement.

My blueberries were now buried under the mountain of random mixed berries making it impossible to get to. My precious blueberries were now contaminated by the other fruit. And my pretty pale pastries were now marred by the rich chocolate ganache I'd enjoyed earlier. All of the things I was looking forward to were now buried under a mountain of chocolate chaos.  

"Aren't you going to eat them? You seemed to be enjoying it," the duke grumbled. He seemed annoyed and part of me cowered. I was afraid I'd made a blunder, and now garden teatime would be over forever, but my blueberries were lost, and my pale pastries were forever disfigured. Tears sprang into my eyes, and my lower lips quivered.

It was like I'd lost all control over myself and began crying big bouts of tears, face reddening, nose sniveling, arm still raised with my berry stained fork in my fisted palm. The entire greenhouse flew into disarray as the duke blinked blankly at me, completely flabbergasted by my response. Lord Polan's deft fingers released the fork from my death grip and hoisted me into his arms, patting my back and bouncing me like a newborn babe. The servants, who had been standing silent along the edge scurried in, hovering around the table, unsure how to respond. Their heads swiveled side to side, trying to silently communicate with one another in confusion and desperation.

"My lady, what's wrong? Don't you like chocolate cake? Hmm?" 

Lord Polan's hand stroked my hair soothingly until my sobbing quieted down a single notch. Before I could lift my head off his shoulder, I was whisked away, snatched from Lord Polan's arms and into the duke's. It was enough of a surprise that I stopped crying and breathing altogether, causing me to hiccup.

"From now on, stay 10 steps behind Iris at all times."

The duke started patting my back and stroking my hair as Lord Polan had been, but his motions were awkward. It felt like grinding gears in desperate need of oil. The duke was stiff as he walked me out of the greenhouse and back into the manor where we headed up the stairs towards my bedroom.

We were all silent as the visibly fuming duke brought me into the attached bathroom inside my room and sat me on the counter. I watched in sniffling silence as he activated the magic stone to retrieve water from the sink. It was fascinating.

Although bathrooms existed and worked much like they did in the modern world, plumbing did not really exist in quite the same way. Water was extracted from magic stones imbued with water magic. Fire and ice magic stones were used to heat and cool the water. Magic stones were accessible to most of the population, but the large fluctuation in price made them accessible only to the more affluent class.

Even with the easy access to water in nobles' homes, there were still customs that prevailed, such as having water brought in a basin every morning to wash your face. As a child, it made a bit more sense as one could wash the child's face first thing in the morning without much drama and resistance from a tired toddler. 

A maid typically would rouse the sleeping child and help wash their face. As an adult, it could really only be summed up as laziness, which I cannot be one to judge. It is very appealing to wake up in the morning and have my face washed without ever leaving my bed, basking in the grogginess and sleepiness as I prepare for the day.

It was like I could not only see but hear the noticeable nervousness in the small group of servants hovering by the door as we all watched the duke wet his dirtied handkerchief under the water before wringing out the excess and scrubbing the remainder of snack time off my face. I swore the whole room was going to die of shock from watching the duke do such a menial task meant for a maid. I saw the butler from the corner of my eye almost faint from the sight.

"Where is the child's lady-in-waiting?" The duke finally asked after his white handkerchief was thoroughly soiled.

"I'm afraid Her Ladyship does not have a personal maid or a lady-in-waiting, Your Grace."

The butler bowed his grey head deeply in apology when he caught the duke's displeased expression. After Marian's dismissal (she, sadly, wasn't beheaded at Sienna's behest), I have not received a new personal maid. I was slightly surprised by this. I figured Sienna would've quickly replaced Marian with another one of her cronies, but none came and stayed permanently.

It was a little surprising to me that the duke asked for a lady-in-waiting instead of a maid. Ladies-in-waiting were ladies of lower-ranking noble houses who waited on the ducal and imperial families.

Ladies-in-waiting were more than just maids. They were more like a personal executive secretary who also did whatever menial tasks required, such as acting as a nanny. Iris never had a lady-in-waiting in the novel because it was a way for Sienna to deny Iris of the Orzo name. Sienna couldn't kick Iris out of the mansion outright because of the goddess's blessings, but Sienna could do petty things to deny Iris the dignity and authority her position commanded, like withholding a lady-in-waiting. 

A lady-in-waiting symbolized and solidified Iris's rank and authority. The lack of a lady-in-waiting also diminished Iris's power and connections. Without a lady-in-waiting, Iris was no different than any other noble lady. Iris was not a "proper" ducal young lady without a lady-in-waiting. And, most importantly, there was no adult shield to protect Iris from Sienna's abuse. 

"You still haven't found someone suitable?"

We all tensed from the duke's venom drenched words. I watched several of the servants' shoulders flinch with their heads bowed to avoid the duke's eyes. I wasn't quite sure why the fact that a maid and lady-in-waiting hadn't been assigned to me yet made him so irritated, but his oppressing displeasure made me tear up and cry all over again. The thought of displeasing him and being at the mercy of Sienna made me bawl at the top of my lungs.

It was now the duke's turn to flinch at the piercing sound of my wailing. I cried in frustration and fear. I didn't want to lose the small sense of safety that snack time brought me. Worst yet, the reminder that I was helpless against Sienna made my tears burn hotter against my cheeks until my whole body turned red from lack of oxygen.

It wasn't my fault that I didn't have a lady-in-waiting like a proper ducal young lady. And now everything would be taken away because I threw a tantrum, but it was the duke's fault that my blueberries and pale pastries were forever lost in the abyss of chocolate ganache. It was unfair that snack time would be taken away when everything was the duke's fault to begin with.

The thought made me wail even louder as I dug my fisted hands into my eyes. The flustered duke stammered, hands stuck in the air with his elbows tucked into his chest, dirty handkerchief still in hand, looking back and forth between Lord Polan and me.

In retrospect, it was kind of amusing to see the duke so flustered and dumbstricken. So much so that it's become one of my favorite childhood memories.