And then Darcy released him and took a step back. His expression was closed off—something had shifted in his gaze. The warmth he’d seen there just moments prior was gone, replaced with something unreadable. “I’m sorry,” Darcy said stiffly. “I don’t know what I was—something came over me. I should go.” Oliver blinked. The shift in Darcy’s mood couldn’t have been more shocking if he’d dumped a bucket of ice water on Oliver’s head. “Darcy—”
No. You go right back and love that boy Mr. Darcy.
