Free Duchess by Mistake by Cheryl Bolen

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