“It’s your father’s way, Daniel. I’m sure Miss Peters did not take offence to his direct approach as to the reason she is here. Is that not so, dear?” Mrs. McAlister asked, directing a superficially sympathetic glance in Gwen’s direction.
“I’ve dealt with all kinds of men professionally,” Gwen said. “You needn’t fear—I can stand up for myself, Daniel,” she said, grinning while ignoring his advice to use his surname.
“Well, then, let’s continue. And please, Father, try to act like I actually physically exist in your presence, regardless of the state of my mind.” Daniel chuckled, but it was not the cheery laugh of a carefree man. “Oh, I almost forgot: I don’t exist in your eyes, for the past means everything to you. You cling to the lost-days and refuse to consider there might be a better way to move forward.” His voice raised, and Gwen clutched the edge of her chair. Anger never solved problems, practical or emotional. Daniel blundered on, baring more of his heart to his startled father. “Do you honestly think I haven’t tried everything under the sun to regain the memories of my family and this place you call home?”
Daniel’s tone revealed a deep cynicism bordering on a lit fuse, waiting to explode. Living under such unattainable expectations was more of a problem for him than regaining his lost memories. He would never heal from his personal losses with the weight of his parents’ hopes dragging him down.
Gwen vowed never to put that pressure on him, not as long as she remained his nurse.
Daniel bounded to his feet and stared at Gwen. “Are you finished? It appears as if you have free rein with your patient. Simply get the job done and return their son, fully intact, to his rightful place in the dominion. That’s not too high of a mission for a capable young lady, such as yourself.”
“Thank you for the compliment, Mr. McAlister,” she said to Daniel as she rose to her feet. Gwen smiled politely at her host and hostess—who were, in all truth, her new employers—for it appeared there was a deep cavern between them, and that suited her just fine.
Before she could speak, a loud knock sounded at the door. When it was opened, Arthur stood there, a toddler in one hand and a small duffle bag in the other.
“Excuse me, sir, but I discovered this bundle of joy sitting patiently on the front steps. He had this note attached to his shirt.” Arthur glanced quickly at Daniel but said no more.
The senior Mr. McAlister, hurried to secure the note. He skimmed the message, then cast an accusing glare at his son. “So, is that what the Confederate Army paid you to do? Sleep with the enemy?”
All of the color drained from Daniel’s face. He stared at the child, then turned to his father. “I have no idea what you’re talking about?”
“The note says that this child is yours. His mother cannot care for him, and the man who is willing to take in the soiled goods, as she refers to herself, does not want her illegitimate boy.”
Daniel ran his fingers through his hair. “What is the woman’s name?”
His father’s voice seemed to explode in the room. “There were so many that you can’t remember the name of the boy’s mother?”
“I can’t remember you, old man—why would I remember a girl I had a fling with?”
Gwen noticed that fear had replaced the innocent expression on the child’s face, and he dropped Arthur’s hand and backed into the hall, unnoticed by the two arguing men. She exited the room to find Arthur in pursuit of the young legs bolting for the entryway.
Gwen called out, “Little one, please come back.”
The footsteps slowed when the child’s hand could not reach the knob on the front door, and his round, frightened eyes peered back at Gwen over the shoulder of the stuffed bear he held to his chest. She reached out to him, hoping to lure him back. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll bet we can find a cookie and a glass of milk there.” The offer seemed to register, but he stayed put, his back slumped against the huge oak door. Gwen rushed over, squatted in front of the child, and wiped the tears from his face. “There, now,” she said, “don’t you worry about those men. They’ll work it out. Meanwhile, we’ll go find us a treat.”
Gwen looked at Arthur, who was standing quietly nearby. “Would you lead the way to the cookie stash, kind sir?”
Chapter 6
Mrs. McAlister was the one to find Gwen and the child sitting at the servants’ kitchen table, munching on oatmeal cookies. She looked at the child with guarded interest and spoke gingerly. “Nurse Peters, would you be so kind as to step into the hallway?”
Gwen got to her feet and patted the child on the top of his soft curly locks. “I’ll be right back.” The boy had only mumbled one-syllable words since they’d sat down—obviously, he had only just begun to learn how to speak.
After closing the door, Gwen turned to face the agitated woman. “Miss Peters—Gwen, isn’t it?” The woman was in begging-mode. “We find ourselves in a most unfortunate situation. My husband is livid and refuses to have the child under his roof. Daniel is reacting at the moment and not taking responsibility for his actions. He stormed from the house before we could resolve the issue. The boy’s place is with his mother, but she’s turned him out in order to wed and gain some sort of respectability, as if that would work.” The woman clucked her tongue in annoyance.
“How can you be certain some woman didn’t take advantage of Daniel’s vulnerability and his lack of memory to get rid
