He flushed. "You had no right to meddle, Grandmama."

"Poppycock. I was not about to allow you to maneuver Bainbridge into a cold-blooded marriage simply to put an end to his rakehell ways and save you any further embarrassment. Lud, Wexcombe, any more of this high-handed behavior and you will need to have your ducal coronet stretched to fit over your enlarged head."

The duke pinched the bridge of his nose. "But why Mrs. Mallory? Could you not have set your sights on someone more suitable?"

"Suitable?" guffawed the dowager. "I always thought you were pig-headed, Wexcombe, but I never thought you were blind. Why, I knew from the moment I met Kit that that she and Nicholas were perfect for each other."

"I fail to see-"

"Exactly." She waved an impatient hand. "I wanted to see Bainbridge settled, but with a woman he loved. Look at them, Wexcombe. Do you not agree that they were meant for each other?"

The two of them turned to watch the bride and groom climb into the carriage; the couple had eyes only for each other. Bainbridge raised Kit's hand to his lips, then turned it over and pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of her wrist. The young lady flushed with pleasure.

"Now," prodded the dowager, "you must at least admit that you were mistaken in your initial impression of Kit's character."

The duke rolled his eyes. "Oh, very well."

"And that you were wrong to treat her with such contempt."

His mouth tightened. "I did what I thought necessary."

The dowager bristled. "Telling Bainbridge that cock-and-bull story of Kit being after my money, then turning around and telling tales out of school to the poor girl-the very idea. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"The chit came from a questionable background, and Bainbridge seemed unreasonably fascinated. I had every right to be alarmed. For that matter, I still have reason to believe he made the wrong choice."

"Oh, stop being such a pompous ass, boy. Bainbridge deserves a measure of contentment, and Kit makes him happy. She is a lovely girl. Pluck to the backbone. She will keep him on his toes."

The carriage began to rumble away, accompanied by the cheers of the assembled villagers. The dowager stood in the churchyard and waved until the equipage disappeared from view.

"Now that this is over," sighed the duke, "I trust you will retire gracefully."

"I have been thinking about that," the dowager replied, tapping a gloved finger against her cheek. "I rather like the role of matchmaker. Perhaps I should turn my attention to your youngest brother, Nigel, or even Lady Elizabeth, although I might be hard pressed to find someone willing to marry a shrew. And since I will be at the dower house for a good portion of the year, I will have ample opportunity to arrange fine matches for Emma and Nathaniel when they come of age. This sounds rather promising, would you not agree?"

"Good God!" blustered the duke, horrified.

The dowager chuckled. Sometimes everything did turn out for the best.