Page 78 of Cruel Shame

My throat dried.

Gideon’s brow furrowed, and he dropped down on the mattress, not caring that he’d just crushed a pile of clothes.

“What?” I rasped.

“Did you mix up the samples?”

I gulped. Maxwell collected the first batch of DNA and placed those in envelopes himself. Mr. Burgh and I did the second batch in his quarters, and the third that I stole when Father Neapolitan and the archbishop were smoking were placed in separate envelopes, too. “Why?”

“I’m assuming that you are DH and Elizabeth is EH?” he asked.

I nodded.

Gideon blew out a long breath. “Alright. It says that while they found a paternal match for the candidate DH, they could not find a match for the father of EH.”

Chapter Thirty

I stared across the room at Gideon, my brows creasing into a frown and my heartbeat accelerating with every passing second. What the hell did he mean that there was no match for Elizabeth’s father? Maxwell and I had checked and double-checked the samples.

“What are you saying?”

“None of the men tested were the father of Elizabeth,” Gideon said. “I wondered if the laboratory mistook her sample for yours.”

“Because it would make better sense that my father would be none of the above,” I muttered.

Gideon rose from his pile of clothes and placed the cover letter on my lap. I stared down at a bunch of words swimming across the page but couldn’t understand a thing.

He placed an arm on my shoulder and sighed. “If my suspicions are correct, then this is wonderful news. It proves that you’re not in any way related to the Liddell family and have no claim whatsoever to their fortune.”

“And if you’re wrong?” I asked

Gideon shook his head. “It’s impossible.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, pushed away the fog closing in on my eyes, and opened them again. The piece of paper contained a jumble of undecipherable letters and numbers.

“DC stands for Deputy Chief Constable and AB stands for archbishop?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Gideon flipped over the first page and placed his finger on one of the results. On the left-hand column were the initials DH and the right the alleged father, AB. “A fifty-percent match with a probability of paternity of 99.9998%. Do you see why I think that’s Elizabeth’s result?”

I frowned but nodded.

He flipped over the next page. “DC here is a twenty-four percent match, consistent with an uncle.”

“If the lab mixed us up, then that would make sense, since Cameron Liddell is the archbishop’s younger brother.”

Then he flipped the next. “DB also has a twenty-three percent match, consistent with a grandfather.”

“But Mr. Burgh isn’t related to the Liddells—”

“I haven’t finished.” He flipped over the next. “TN’s match is eighteen-percent, which denotes a more distant familial relationship.”

I rubbed my chin. “If you think they mixed my sample with Elizabeth’s, why would Mr. Burgh come out in the DNA test as Elizabeth’s grandfather?”

“I don’t know…” Gideon turned a few more pages. “Who is GB?”

“Gabbage,” I said. “That’s Lady Liddell’s maiden name.”