Page 79 of Cruel Shame

A breath caught in Gideon’s throat, making him stiffen. “What?”

“What?” I asked.

Gideon held up a palm and muttered something about incomplete information. For the next few seconds, he flipped through the results and even picked up the pamphlet to cross-reference them. Throughout this, nausea rippled through my insides. What if the results weren’t really jumbled up? What if Lady Liddell got pregnant with another man’s child and passed Elizabeth off as the daughter of the archbishop?

That would mean he was my father. I shook my head. My father couldn’t be the archbishop. Mother barely knew the man. He was ancient—even older than Mr. Burgh—and he hardly got involved with anyone apart from the occasional meeting for chapel sermons.

“Remember everything I just told you?” Gideon placed the papers back on my lap. “Forget it. The final DNA test matched EH to GB, indicating that Elizabeth is both the daughter of Lady Liddell and none of the men sampled.”

Every ounce of blood drained from my face. I reached a trembling hand into my pocket and pulled out my phone. “Bloody hell.”

Gideon’s gaze dropped to my hand. “What are you doing?”

I tapped the shortcut for Mother, hoping she would be sober enough to pick up. “Calling the only person who can tell me what really happened eighteen years ago.”

Gideon flopped back on the crushed pile of clothes. “Good luck.”

The phone rang and went to voicemail. I hung up and dialed again and again and again until someone picked up. An impatient, female voice I didn’t recognize. When I told her it was Lilah, the voice softened and told me to wait a moment. I licked my dry lips. Was this another housekeeper or was that Margaret woman doing a bit of overtime?

Just as I turned on the phone-recording app, Mother rasped, “Lilah?”

“I’ve just gotten some DNA results back from the lab. Guess what they say?”

She paused before answering. “What are you talking about?”

My eyes narrowed. If she wanted to stall for time while she thought up another lie, that was up to her, but I already knew the results—I just wanted to know how Mother could have gotten pregnant by the archbishop.

“Someone took samples from Thomas Neapolitan, Mr. Burgh, Cameron Liddell, the Liddell’s lawyer, and the archbishop and sent them to a lab with my DNA. My father isn’t Thomas Neapolitan, nor is it Mr. Burgh.”

Mother made a sniffing sound. “Are you calling me a liar? That man raped—”

“Tell me the truth for once in your life, or I’ll come down tonight and ask Billy.”

“Lilah,” Mother hissed. “If he ever found out—”

“Then tell me right now.”

For the next few moments, the only sounds from the speaker were her rasping breaths. Mother tended to brood. When things got awkward, she went silent, erecting a wall around her nobody could penetrate. When things went beyond that, she turned to gin.

Not today.

Some crazy bitch wanted me dead and another wouldn’t leave me alone. And the key to discovering why was Mother.

Gideon leaned forward and widened his eyes in a silent question of what was taking so long. He was bloody right. Mother probably wasn’t gathering her words but stalling.

“Alright, then,” I said. “Tell Margaret to put another roast in the microwave. I’m coming down to Richley.”

“Wait,” she rasped.

“What?”

“Thomas did ambush me on that school skiing trip. I wasn’t lying when I said he was your father. It had to be him because…”

I gulped. Because he held her hostage for hours and—I shook my head. Boys my age needed next to nothing to get hard after climaxing. He probably raped her the entire time she was his hostage. Nausea rose to the back of my throat, and my eyes filled with tears. How could I keep pushing her to relive that terrible ordeal?

An apology rolled to the tip of my tongue, but I clicked my mouth shut. Mother had done it again. She’d distorted me with the situation with Father Neapolitan, just so I wouldn’t ask about my true father.

“Then what happened?” I asked.