The very name Cliveden resonates through the annals of British history as an abode exuding power and privilege and synonymous with salacious political scandal. Yet at first glance, sweeping past the gleaming marble and cockleshell “Fountain Of Love”, depicting cavorting nymphs and cherubs, up the alluring avenue lined with pin oaks, erect as Cupid’s arrows, past the 100-foot gold-capped tower, which inspired the clock tower in Disney’s Cinderella remake, to the threshold of this effeminate Italianate mansion, one realises it is an ode to love — or more precisely, a labour of love — by aristocrats for their beautiful mistresses. It is not hard to imagine why, then, Meghan Markle chose to spend the night at this sumptuous property, once owned by the Duke of Buckingham, before she married the Duke of Sussex. As you glide to a halt on the gravel, among the cavalcade of Bentleys and Range Rovers, a liveried attendant appears faster than a genie to open your car door and to whisk your luggage away to your suite with a heart-stopping view. There is nothing about Cliveden to suggest it is a hotel — no signs, no queue at reception, no mountain of Louis Vuitton being tagged, no standing atop a topiary tree to get attention. Indeed, check-in is seamless, more on a par with arriving as an invited guest at a private country mansion for a house party or pheasant shoot. Think platinum service, never mind silver.The Fountain of Love, created in Italy, is one of the fabled features at the entrance to Cliveden. (Deborah Curtis-Setchell) Cliveden, named after the chalk cliffs lining this pastoral Thames Valley, stands majestically on 152 lush hectares of National Trust property, near Taplow, Berkshire, overlooking a broad stretch of river meandering through dense surrounding forest. The 47 opulent, elevated suites, reached by a solid mahogany staircase as wide as the river, feature high ceilings, four posters, fireplaces and floor-to-ceiling windows, proffering unparalleled views, stretching for miles across this genteel county. One has enough space to play cricket in every room without having to venture out onto the verdant lawns beneath.On the rare occasion I’ve been privileged to visit Cliveden, I’ve been allocated the Christine Keeler Suite, which, in the context of the history of this house, is hugely significant: Keeler is attributed with changing the course of British history. She also extraordinarily died the same night I occupied the chamber named after her. For modern-day purposes there are only two mistresses one should be preoccupied with: one is Lady Astor, an American socialite, who married 20th-century owner Lord Waldorf Astor and became Britain’s first female MP; and the other is Keeler, a call girl who, in the 1960s, had an affair with both John Profumo, the then British war secretary, and a Russian naval attaché. It was dubbed the Profumo Affair, resulting in the collapse of the Conservative government.It was Cliveden’s famous outdoor swimming pool, which Lord Astor junior had newly installed, complete with a statue of his son riding a dolphin at the deep end, that precipitated this national catastrophe. The story goes that Keeler and friends, while spending a weekend with lodger Stephen Ward in a cottage on the sprawling grounds, decided to go for a Sunday skinny dip in the pool, assuming the landlord wasn’t in residence, only to be caught unawares by Lord Astor showing off his pool to lunch guests. Astor later demanded an introduction. Ultimately, it was Profumo who got into hot water with Keeler, while Astor escaped unscathed by the tumultuous political tidal wave. Suffice to say every guest arriving at Cliveden since the scandal wants to christen the pool for posterity and history’s sake, including me.As for fine dining, few restaurant locations are as romantic as the Cliveden Dining Room, where you sit in plush banquettes, overlooking the parterre and immaculate gardens, under a fleet of floating chandeliers, with as much natural light pouring in from Waldorf Astor’s imported French windows, indulging in locally sourced food fit for royalty.While emerging after dark from the turquoise depths, feeling like Venus, swaddled in a plush white robe, with the steam and the moon rising and ascending the staircase, heading for the sanctuary of my suite, I heard a sudden commotion below. Leaning over the bannisters, I overheard dining-room staff mourning the fact Keeler’s life had finally drifted to an unceremonious end. I uncorked the Laurent Perrier awaiting me, slid into the marble bath, almost as big as the celebrated pool, and toasted her portrait and the indelible impact her romantic stamping ground had made on me and on the nation, judging by the front pages of the papers the following day.Disneyesque sculpted topiaries line the National Trust gardens surrounding Cliveden. (Deborah Curtis-Setchell) This, my most recent visit, however, was in midsummer. I was intent only on luxuriating in the long daylight hours and discovering every inch of Cliveden’s lavish landscaped gardens, featuring a labyrinth of architectural landmarks, where many more salubrious house guests from Sir Winston Churchill to Charlie Chaplin, have legally loitered. There is a pavilion built to commemorate the Battle of Britain, an amphitheatre where the first recital of Rule Britannia was played, and a topiary garden, with topiaries so well sculpted, you could be standing in the Louvre rather than in flower-filled meadows. Further afield there is another historical landmark, the boathouse, where Kenneth Grahame drew inspiration for his children’s classic The Wind in the Willows and the oft-quoted line: “There is nothing more fun than messing around in boats.” They don’t mess about at Cliveden; they put you in a vintage one and sail you downriver with a picnic basket and the perennial magnum of Laurent Perrier.As for fine dining, few restaurant locations are as romantic as the Cliveden Dining Room, where you sit in plush banquettes, overlooking the parterre and immaculate gardens, under a fleet of floating chandeliers, with as much natural light pouring in from Waldorf Astor’s imported French windows, indulging in locally sourced food fit for royalty. And if you prefer your food less rich and your decor less regal, you have the option of the Astor Grill brasserie in the charming old converted stables, where once upon a magical time Lord Astor kept his prize fillies, also inspiring Cinderella’s carriage scenes, with a prize menu, oozing American classics.A state-of-the-art spa is a universal acknowledgement at any luxury hotel in the UK, and you would have to be a sybarite to distinguish between the multitude of products and treatments. However, the only litmus test on which I can rely is my senses. And the scent of the Nancy Astor Body Range is heaven-sent — the blossom, wild mint and lily melange is addictive.So true to history and Disney, be it a dramatic duel or fairy tale ending you seek, it would be scandalous to visit the southern counties of England and not seek out Cliveden, easily the most iconic hotel found among the Thames Valley dukedoms.