Duchess by Mistake (8 page)

Her brows lowered. "Whatever could I do to help you?"

"As a married woman, you could serve as my official hostess without drawing censure."

She fleetingly wondered why this bachelor had never asked his other married cousins, Lydia or Kate, to serve as his hostess, but she must own that he
had
always been closer to her than to her sisters. Then, too, he might wish to host Parliamentary discussions or dinners at sumptuous Aldridge House, which was undisputedly one of the grandest of London's houses. "If his grace doesn't object," she said, peering up at Aldridge.

Her husband lifted her chin with a gentle knuckle. "What are you to call me now, dearest?"

Their eyes met and held. "Philip." She could not have felt more embarrassed had she just stripped off her wedding dress in front of all these people. Not since she was a young girl had she called any male other than her brothers and cousins by their Christian name.

It was just another manifestation of this intimacy she had not been prepared for as recently as a week earlier.

"My darling, you shall be free to use our home in any manner you wish." Philip's gaze flicked to Richie. "I have no objections to allowing Mr. Rothcomb-Smedley to assemble his supporters at Aldridge House."

"How very kind you are, your grace," Richie said. "That's a most generous offer."

While far from being poor, Richie had no residence of his own in the Capital and had been leasing chambers at Albany. She supposed being able to hold dinners at Aldridge House would be advantageous to Richie's promising Parliamentary career, and she would be happy to help her favorite cousin.

The mantel clock chimed. Twelve times.

"It's time we go, love," Philip murmured.

* * *

Philip sat beside her in his coach and four and set about throwing the rug across their laps as it had become chilly. Despite that his carriage was as fine as could be purchased, it was not a comfortable place to be on a blustery day like this.

"Thank you." She looked up at him with smiling eyes. Very fine pale bluish eyes. "Will it take us very long to reach Glenmont? I've never been there before."

"That's because when I left England you were a little girl."

"I was not! I was fifteen, almost sixteen."

"And I would not have given you a second look--even though you must have been very pretty."

"As I recall, you were enamored of older, married women."

He frowned. "I only accommodated already-corrupted women."

"So you're saying you draw the line at being a woman's first seducer?"

"I have neither been a maiden's nor a matron's first seducer." He was deuced uncomfortable discussing this business with anyone, much less an innocent like Elizabeth.

She arched a brow. "Then I'll be your first . . ." She was too modest to continue.

Virgin.
He swallowed. Not even as a lad at Eton had Philip discussed such intimacies. He'd be damned if he would discuss them with this girl he had married! His only response to her query was a stiff nod. "Oblige me by changing the topic of this conversation. I had forgotten your cousin is Richard Rothcomb-Smedley. I expect by the time he's thirty he'll be Chancellor of the Exchequer. He's possessed of a singular purpose."

"He is indeed, and I think he wants that position
before
he reaches thirty."

"How old is he?"

"Five and twenty." Her gaze flitted to the case he'd brought with his papers. "I have no objections if you'd like to begin reading your tax bill, though I can't credit anything with being more boring. I shall be happy to peer from the carriage window."

"Even on a gray day like this?"

"I always enjoy the country, and my. . . dear Philip, you did not answer my question about how long it will take us to arrive at Glenmont."

"I hope to reach by dark, but even though the days are getting longer it still can be dark before five at this time of year."

"It can be dark by four in the afternoon."

"Since there's been no rain in the past several days, the roads should be good. With no impediments, we should arrive in about four hours."

* * *

"I'm glad it's not dark yet so you'll be able to see Glenmont Hall." Philip set aside the papers he'd been perusing throughout the journey. "If you'll look to the right, beyond the glen, you can see it."

She edged closer to the window and pressed her face into its coolness as her gaze swept across the glen's tall grasses rippling in the wind. And just beyond, she saw it. The nearly breathtaking sight of Glenmont Hall recalled Haverstock's praise. Her brother had said no other country home in the kingdom could match Glenmont. At the time, country homes had held no allure for her.

Now she realized Haverstock had not exaggerated.

Even had Glenmont not been so vast--stretching as far as the window would allow her to see--it would have impressed. The pale, ivory-stoned building featured the elements of classical architecture: the central pediment, Corinthian columns, perfect symmetry, and statuary of mythological beings. From this distance she could not tell if the ivory statues lined up along the  roofline were Grecian maidens or warriors.

As the carriage clattered along the gravel lane toward the house, she saw they were maidens. A shimmering lake dipping in front caught the reflection of the house and maidens. The place was sheer perfection.

Her throat went dry.
I will be mistress of all of this
. This was now her home and would be until the day she died.

Philip would expect some kind of response from her. "It's so beautiful! Can the interiors possibly be worthy of so fine a home?"

He shrugged. "You'll have to judge for yourself. I do prefer the loveliness of the countryside, but I think the interiors will not offend."

"I'm sure they won't." She had been unable to remove her mesmerized gaze from the perfection of Glenmont. "I see the influence of Capability Brown in your parkland."

"Not just his influence. His complete direction. He worked on this for a decade."

"How fortunate you are."

"Yes, my grandfather came back from his Grand Tour and immediately tore down the old house that had stood on this property since the thirteenth century."

"What a terrible loss."

"I'm told it was falling down in disrepair." He shrugged. "Difficult to know which camp to believe, especially since my grandfather returned from Italy so enamored of Andrea Palladio's architecture."

"Your grandfather must have been an exceedingly patient man. This is so massive an undertaking."

"Indeed it was. He never saw what you're now looking at. Only the central block had been completed before his death--and that took more than ten years to build."

"How many years did it take to build what we see today?"

"One and twenty. My father honored his father's vision--and plans conceived by my grandfather and carried out by Robert Adam."

The Scottish architect's name was one she easily recognized. It would be difficult to find a noble family in Britain which had not worked with Robert Adam or his brother at some time. "I would wager you could not tell me how many rooms you have at Glenmont."

His face screwed up in thought. "You'd win the wager."

"Can you approximate?"

He shrugged. "It's somewhere just short of three hundred."

How utterly daunting! She felt so unfit to be anyone's wife—much less a duke's! She had never even spoken to the Haverstock housekeeper on matters of . . . housekeeping, nor had she ever contemplated the protocol for seating guests at the dinner table.

When the coach pulled up in front of the portico, a footman swung open the door and hurried down the steps to open the carriage door for his master. Philip, in turn, offered Elizabeth his hand as she disembarked.

Inside, a skeleton staff of about two dozen lined up to welcome the new duchess. Elizabeth found it excessively intimidating to think she would be thought the matriarch by each and every one of them. She was but one and twenty! She was not yet old enough to inherit the legacy left her by her grandmother.

Philip had sent ahead his most valued servants--as well as the new lady's maid whose services Elizabeth had procured in accordance with her new status. He had instructed his staff to see that dinner should be ready when the master arrived.

"It's been five and thirty years since there's been a new Duchess of Aldridge," he told her, even though she knew as much.

The first servant to step forward was a tall, middle-aged butler who was possessed of thick, dark hair. "Dearest, I should like to present to you Vale, who's been butler for the Aldridges since I was a lad."

Vale bowed, deeply inclining his head.

Next, the housekeeper came to face Elizabeth, curtseying. This woman was likely in her early to mid-forties. The years had taken away her waist, but her limbs were still lean, and her whispy brown hair was only slightly threaded with gray.

"My darling, I should like to present Mrs. Plumley to you."

"And, Mrs. Plumley," Elizabeth said, meeting the housekeeper's gaze, "how long have you been in service to the Aldridges?"

"His grace was kind enough to offer me employment shortly after he succeeded." Mrs. Plumley favored Elizabeth with a friendly smile devoid of artifice.

Since Philip had succeeded whilst in his twenties, Elizabeth was struck at the maturity he must have demonstrated. She would have thought he'd have deferred to his mother for guidance in domestic decisions.

Elizabeth  mirrored the housekeeper's smile. "That you are still here competently running Glenmont is testament to your capabilities."

"Thank you, your grace. Whenever during the next several days you are sufficiently rested, I should be happy to give you a tour of Glenmont."

Elizabeth's gaze lifted to Philip's. She had not realized how much taller than her he was. The tip of her head barely came to his shoulders. "Would tomorrow be agreeable for you?"

Philip nodded. "Excellent. You and Mrs. Plumley can explore the thrilling linen closets whilst I continue my study of the tax bill--after I have the pleasure of showing you the grounds early in the day."

"Very good," Mrs. Plumley said. "The dinner will be served as soon as you and the duchess change clothing, if that meets with your grace's approval."

"I am most gratified to learn that," Philip replied.

Mrs. Plumley curtseyed, then the Duke and Duchess of Aldridge strolled along the grand marble entry foyer, nodding to each freshly cleaned and starched employee before climbing the curving staircase to the bedchambers.

More massive paintings by old Italian masters adorned the walls all the way up the gilt-banistered staircase to the third floor. Turkey carpets dominated with vivid reds covered the time-worn wooden floors there.

"I am sorry the duchess's chambers haven't been done up for you. They are as they were left five years ago."

"When your mother died," she said solemnly.

He gave a morose nod. "You shall have to modernize them." At the second door they came to, he paused and opened it. "These will be your chambers."

Everything in the room was ivory: the silken draperies and bed curtains, the brocade settee, the plastered walls, and even the carpet. All the furnishings were gilt. It looked far too formal for Elizabeth's taste. She would never feel comfortable here.

Fortunately, she did not have to convey her dissatisfaction.

"It looks nothing like you, now that I think on it. My mother was entirely too . . . stilted. She had been with the French court for a brief time and spent the rest of her life emulating Versailles."

She nodded. "I should like the warmth of wood and a bit more colour."

"My duchess shall have it."

Her maid had placed her hairbrush and hand mirror on the opulent dressing table that was lit  by slender silver candlesticks. She supposed her clothing, too, had already been unpacked. "Shall you collect me once I've dressed for dinner?"

"I shall. Will half an hour give you enough time?"

A quick glance in the looking glass told her that Fanny's artistry with Elizabeth's hair that morning had held well enough. Otherwise, a half hour would not do for re-dresssing herself and her hair. "I think so."

He leaned into her and brushed a kiss across her cheek. "Good. I'm starving. I'll knock at your door in thirty minutes."

Instead of returning by the door they had entered, he disappeared into a door on the same wall as the headboard of her bed.
To his chambers
. Of course they would adjoin one another!  The impending intimacy sent her pulse racing.

Fanny seemed most capable as she helped Elizabeth out of her wedding dress and into one of red velvet which exposed her bare, milk white shoulders. When Philip collected her--coming directly from his bedchamber without using the corridor--his eyes widened when he gazed upon her. "How beautiful you look." There was something in his hand. A silken box.

"I've brought you some of the family jewels. I had hoped to see you wear the Aldridge rubies tonight." He swallowed hard as his simmering gaze raked over her.

"How amazing that I chose to wear the red tonight!" She moved to him as he began to open the box. When she saw the scalloped necklace of large rubies and diamonds set in gold she froze. "Oh, your grace! I shall be afraid to wear anything so beautiful and so valuable!"

His gaze still simmering, he moved to place the necklace on her, and he spoke in a low, husky voice. "Oblige me by not calling me- -  -"

"Your grace. Sorry. . .Philip." Her eyes could not leave the looking glass as he clasped the opulent necklace at the back of her neck. Then his head dipped to give her a nibbling kiss in the hollow of her neck.

Goosebumps covered her exposed flesh.

By the time they reached the dinner room, it was quite dark beyond the tall casements, but the three chandeliers above the table glittered with the light of more than a hundred candles.

"I've requested that your place be beside me since there's just the two of us," he said.

A smile played at her lips. "I am happy, indeed, that I shan't have to shout down the table at you."