Darcy was relieved that she sunk into his embrace, because for a moment he had worried that she might push him away. He held her close, running his hands up and down her back. Her words stung, and there was no keeping that look of hurt from his face no matter how he might have tried to disguise it with a more stern look. The scowls tended to fail around her, no matter how practised he was. “Please do not...” he started, but she said it was a brief moment, so he didn’t finish his request. Instead, he blinked rapidly to stop tears from forming at the very thought of her leaving him.
“I don’t know. I wish that I had an answer for you, but I’m sorry, I don’t know,” he admitted after considering it for a moment. He had known she hated his guts, but he really hadn’t expected her to be al cruel to her daughter. “Do you wish me to talk with her? I cannot say it won’t just make things worse, but if you want me to I will try to make amends.” He would swallow his pride for her and apologise if need be, grovel even, whatever she needed.