Maybe it was just because of Sunday night’s very physical blow casting its shadow on her, but she didn’t feel that other at all. Not more than a twinge, anyway. “Are they happy?” She wasn’t sure she was gracious enough to hope so.

But Casek’s snort only gave her a little bit of pleasure. “Of course not. Her family didn’t approve of him, as we all knew would happen. A little nobody from a National School, trying to rub elbows with the intelligentsia?” He shook his head. “They told her it was either an annulment or they’d disown her.”

Her mouth fell open a bit. Cador had always been able to charm his way into anyone’s favor. He’d even gotten along with the Tremaynes, for goodness’ sake, becoming the only Wearne to claim that feat for generations. But there was no wiggle of hope that perhaps he was free again. Nor any devilish glee in the thought of their hasty marriage failing so quickly. “What did she choose?”

Now Casek glanced her way, a warning in his eyes. “Them, at first. Until she realized she was with child. Then she went back to him. From what I can glean from his letters, they’re living in a miserable little flat in London, and he’s working for a publisher, though not in any notable position. He maintains that it’s a start, and that the misery his nag of a wife subjects him to daily is but fuel for his muse.” He rolled his eyes at that. “The latest letter said their second child should join them by Christmas.”

He said it gently. And she could appreciate his care. But that didn’t sting either, not much. The thought of Cador as a father and his pretty, city wife at his side. Little ones that weren’t hers squalling for his attention.

She blew out a breath. She didn’t wish him misery—and not with the hope that happiness would silence his muse either. She was simply glad his little family was in London and not here. She may have, at some point in these past weeks home, managed to forgive him. But she didn’t have any desire to see him. “But you said he was published?”

“Not by the company he’s working for—just a little press that did an initial printing of two hundred copies, none of which have sold. Well, one. Mam bought one, of course.”

A chuckle tickled her throat. “As she should. And shouldn’t you have bought another?”

Casek’s eyes flashed. “I told him when he tossed you over that I was on your side, not his. That if he’d broken your heart, I’d wash my hands of him.”

He had? “Caz.” She ducked under the boom and moved to his side. “He’s your twin brother.”

“He hurt you. It isn’t forgivable.”