Free Be Mine Tonight by Kathryn Smith Page B

made a face. “Please, call me by my first name. ‘Sir’ makes me think of the headmaster at my old school and I couldn’t stand the man.”
    Chapel smiled—he’d been doing a lot of that the past few days. “Fair enough, but only if you’ll call me Chapel.”
    “I have been meaning to ask you about that, Mr. Chapel.” Prudence raised her wine to her already delicately stained lips.
    He arched a brow. “About my name?”
    She dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “Yes. Forgive my impertinence, but how is it that you came to be simply ‘Chapel’?”
    All eyes were on him once more, as thougheveryone wished to ask the same question. Everyone save Molyneux, that is.
    “It would be an honor to assauge your curiosity, Miss Ryland. I was a foundling, discovered on the chapel steps, and so named by the good fathers who took over my care.” It wasn’t a lie; he simply chose to leave out that he was a full-grown man at the time and that centuries had passed since that day.
    Both Caroline and Matilda looked sorry for him, and a little uncomfortable, no doubt because they now believed him an unwanted bastard. It was preferable to the truth, however, so he could tolerate their pity.
    Prudence, on the other hand, simply smiled, turning her attention to Molyneux. “And were you one of those who raised him, Father?”
    Now, there was a question that might have been cause for laughter in different company. If either of them had watched the other grow into a man, it had been Chapel watching Molyneux.
    “Yes,” the priest answered, a twinkle in his eye as he grinned at Chapel. “But I take credit for his virtues only, Miss Ryland.”
    That wicked hazel gaze came back to Chapel. “Oh-ho, that implies that you have vices, Mr. Chapel. Surely Father Molyneux would not mislead us on that account?”
    Chapel sipped his wine. “The good Father would mislead you in any way that might cause me discomfort, Miss Ryland, just as any family member would to another.”
    All four of the Ryland sisters laughed at that, and began recounting just such stories about one another, which thankfully took attention from Chapel once more. He was not accustomed to such scrutiny. His facade of humanity might not hold up under much more intense study.
    During dessert Thomas offered both Chapel and Molyneux full use of his library for their personal and professional use. Chapel didn’t bother to tell him that Prudence had already given him a great many books to peruse. That an unmarried lady had gone alone to his room was not something a gentleman announced at dinner.
    It wasn’t something a gentleman announced at any time.
    After dessert, just when Chapel thought he might escape the confines of the house for some fresh air, free of the rich scent of human life, Marcus Grey approached him.
    The man was young, handsome, mortal and spent a lot of time in Pru’s company. There was very little reason for Chapel to like him, and yet there was very little reason for him to despise the man either, save for the fact that Chapel would like to be him, if even just for one day. Day being the key factor.
    “Mr. Chapel.” The young man’s voice was low and oddly respectful. “I understand from Miss Ryland that you have a fair bit of knowledge about the Grail.”
    “I have a bit.” So Pru had been talking about him, had she?
    “What would you consider your era of expertise?”
    “Medieval lore.” It was the first response that came to mind.
    “Would you happen to know much about the Knights Templar and their expulsion from France?”
    If he drew breath like a normal person, Chapel would have choked on it. Did he know anything? Did actually being there count? Of course, he couldn’t tell Mr. Grey that he had been one of King Philip’s soldiers.
    “Uh, yes. I do know about the Templars.”
    Blue eyes brightened and cheeks flushed with interest. Chapel could smell the warm blood coursing through the boy as his heart picked up an excited pace. His gums