Cruel Shame (Knights of Templar Academy #3) - Sofia Daniel Page 0,55

enough to send me to hell.

Lady Liddell glanced around the tables and tightened her lips. It looked like Mrs. Campbell just foiled her plan to make me act like a madwoman. “Quite.” She cleared her throat. “You have returned from compassionate leave to address this hearing to help us with our inquiries?”

Leaning back in my seat, I waited for every one of those fucker’s around the table to turn their gazes to me. “I went to London over the weekend to see my mum and ask her why she left Templar.”

“Abigail Hancock née Burgh is the daughter of our former headmaster,” Lady Liddell said for nobody’s benefit, seeing as she’d already repeated the rumor in her church newsletter that went out to everyone in the Church of Scotland.

I nodded. “She told me it wasn’t true and—”

“Victims of abuse often hide their shame,” Lady Liddell said.

“And she was raped,” I said in a louder voice.

A hush spread across the room, and all the color leached from Lady Liddell’s face. I turned to Father Neapolitan, whose face turned purple. The man flared his nostrils, breathing faster than a racehorse.

“Thomas Neapolitan is my biological father.” I pointed at the man, making sure to look him full in the face, even when the disgust and loathing in his eyes made my stomach twist. “If you want to blame anyone for abusing my mother, look at him.”

Father Neapolitan rose to his feet. “Filthy lies.”

“I’ll call my mother now and get her to prove you wrong.” I picked up my smartphone and pressed the shortcut for Mother, my heart spasming with dread. This was such a huge, fucking risk. If Mother was in the wrong mood, she would say out of spite that my father was Mr. Burgh.

Excited chatter filled the room, and everyone sounded like they were delighted to have taken a day off work to witness these daytime theatrics.

“Enough!” The archbishop raised both hands, making everyone turn silent. “I remember some talk of impropriety between Thomas and Abigail Burgh eighteen years ago. As far as I’m concerned, the matter of Miss Hancock’s parentage is closed.”

My throat dried, and I glanced around the table. Most of the academy governors’ mouths gaped open, as though this was the biggest scandal since Queen Elizabeth I executed Mary, Queen of Scots. In a small town like Templar, it probably was.

Lady Liddell pursed her lips. The archbishop had just confirmed that I was possibly a Liddell. A Liddell who could lay claim to the fortune his wife tried so desperately to protect.

I gulped. What did that mean for me, now? I pictured her offering me ten grand to bugger off back to Richley. I would shove the offer up her bag-of-flour ass, add half-a-pound of butter and set it on fire.

My call went to voicemail, and I hung up. Of course, Mother would still be sleeping at this time of the morning. She’d probably spent Sunday and Monday drowning herself in gin.

“After putting Miss Hancock through yet another ordeal, do you think you could permit her to return to her classes?” said Mrs. Campbell, her voice doused in venom.

“Of course.” The archbishop offered me a tired smile. “Thank you for coming, Lilah. We will recess until ten o’clock.”

I rose to my feet with my gaze fixed on Lady Liddell’s cold eyes. The look on her face said that I might have kept my place at Templar Academy, but what she planned next for me would be deadly.

Chapter Twenty-Three

As far as victories went, that one was pretty bizarre. I walked out of the boardroom in a daze and wandered down the hallway in the opposite direction to my Business Studies class. The only reason I stopped was because I reached a fire door at the end. On my left stood a door that led to a stairwell, but I was in no mood for a class or a conversation.

Pushing open the fire door, I stepped outside the building. A gust of cold air blew over my skin, making the dry strands of my hair rustle. I winced at the two days I spent not conditioning my hair and made a promise to myself to try out a deep conditioning masque Gideon swore would work wonders on my hair.

The gardens around the academy’s side were mostly gravel with evenly spaced paving stones that slipped underfoot. Frost-covered lavender shrubs lined the garden’s borders, with English primroses providing a pop of yellow.

I walked over a gravel path that ran along the flowerbeds, enjoying