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“Of course.”

“Perhaps we could use it as fuel for my hearth fire tonight?”

She harrumphs. “Might as well burn its weight in bank notes, Your Grace, for it likely cost as much.”

“I don’t care. I can’t stand the sight of it for one second longer. Apparently, I had no reason to wear black all this time.” I tell her about my run-in with Lady Petrakis.

“Perhaps we burn this one, but might I suggest relocation for the others? Such fine material would feed families.”

“Very well. See to it, but I want to watch this one burn.”

When I step out of it, Medora throws the heavy dress atop the ashes in the hearth. “There. What would you like to wear instead?”

I skip over to the wardrobe that matches the rest of my room. White finish. Gold handles. Sweeping designs of trailing flowers. More chrysanthemums.

I begin to flip through dress after dress. Without any preamble, I ask, “Medora, have you ever had a lover?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “A few, Your Grace.”

“I’m thinking of taking one.”

“Truly? Who?”

“I don’t know yet, but I intend to find someone. And quickly.”

Before my sister’s wedding.

“Falling in love can take time, Your Grace.”

I consider a bright green day dress with long sleeves, before sliding it aside and looking at the next. “You misunderstand me. I have no intention of falling in love. I only want a lover.”

“Oh,” she says in response, as though she doesn’t quite understand.

So I help her. “Men in my position are permitted mistresses. So why not me? I’m wealthy, titled, and sick of spending my nights alone. I want a mistress. The male equivalent of one. What would you call that?”

“I don’t think there is a word for that.”

“Then perhaps we should make one.”

For a moment, there isn’t a sound except for hangers slinging across the rack in my wardrobe.

“Let me make sure I’ve got this right,” Medora says. “You want to keep a man in the way men traditionally keep women? Exchanging sex for housing, clothing, and all other possessions? No love involved?”

“Precisely.” I mean, it wouldn’t hurt if my lover fell head over heels in love with me, but I intend to remain at a distance.

I step away from the wardrobe with a pale orange dress with sheer sleeves that extend to my elbows and ribbons that tie into neat bows at my back.

“What do you think of that?” I ask her.

“I think it’s brilliant, Your Grace! As long as you’re careful, why shouldn’t you carry on as a powerful man in your position?”

“Careful?” I ask.

“For two reasons. One, as the woman, you will still bear all the responsibilities if you become pregnant. And two, despite you having the upper hand as far as money and reputation, the man you choose will likely be much stronger than you. I don’t wish to see any harm come to you.”

The way Medora looks out for me is heartwarming. I’ve, of course, already thought of such things. I have come all this way, risen as high as I can go, and yet, because women are the child bearers, we are left with all the consequences of pregnancy. Not the man, who is the reason for a woman becoming pregnant in the first place.

I will place an order for contraceptives before starting any physical relationship.