The Cardinal's Angels by Gregory House Page B

set his cods a twitching but he ignored his impish daemon and drew a steady breath and nodded. “The other coin is yours when I have the information that I need, Mistress Bethany.”
    That earned him a brief but sharp look then a resigned shrug. Only a fool, fresh from the country, would pay over first—too much chance of her doing a flit. Ned may have only been in the city a few years but he’d never been that innocent! So compliance for now assured , he pushed at the ragged wisps of the evening, searching for facts. “The last time I was at the Cardinals Cap, I remember you being there to help out with the serving.”
    Well that was substantially true—Bethany did work there and she did ‘help’ the clients in a round about kind of way. As any sensible man knew, every gaming house either in the City or the Liberties had its own methods of playing the cony–catchers game, that of parting the gullible from their money. Some used loaded dice to alter the roll, while with others it was bait and switch. The game started with real dice till they had pulled the conies in, and then those innocent dice were palmed and replaced with the rigged set.
    At the Cardinal’s Cap, however, they disdained the common moves of nip and foister, aspiring to higher plains of cleverness. They employed a combination of bait and switch, along with the insidious effects of double strength ale. In the unwary it created a heady mix of befuddlement and confusion. Once primed, the punks twitched their skirts and moved in. He knew how easy it was to succumb to the distraction and encouragement of girls such as Bethany. He knew how it worked—you were going well and the next roll might just win you enough silver to party like priest after Lent. Then up would sidle a helpful and well endowed lass, who while leaning over to whisper huskily in your ear, also gave you the chance to ogle to your hearts content at the glimpse of smoothly promising breast with just a hint of nipple trying their best to burst out of her bodice. And she would whisper huskily, so close that the feeling of her lips and breathe sent ripples all the way down to your codpiece. And what would those lovely lips whisper lovingly into your ear? “ Ooohhh Ned, you can do it Ned. Y’re soo clever” and while gently twisting a lock of your hair between her fingers, “then we’s can celebrate … upstairs.” Well, in such a drink befuddled state, what chance did you have?
    It had taken Ned all of an hour and a half and several shillings to spot the tricks, but it was done with such craft and style that he’d returned afterwards just for the entertainment. Anyway once he understood it, the play gave him good warning of when to pull out of a game. The snap of those delightfully white teeth on the pie returned Ned to the immediate present. “Bethany, that night who else was there and what happened?”
    The punk looked thoughtful, frowning hard in concentration. It was a short while before she answered. Perhaps it was also due to the pie that was rapidly disappearing, but eventually she licked the crumbs off her sweet red lips, and eased open the door to his past. “Twas was just on the Compline bell when y’ came in wit’ the rest o’em .”
    Excellent now he knew for sure he was with his friends. “Which ones?”
    “The small lad in the too big lawyer’s robe, an’ the swanky one with dark ‘air and pocked nose, an’ your other friend.” Bethany stopped, a dreamy look crossing her face and she sighed. “He was so scrumptious, such broad shoulders, strong sturdy thighs, an’ cornflower blue eyes. I wished ‘e were my friend!”
    Ned frowned peevishly. The first two were, of course, Geoffrey and Will, but the third description only brought up one flashed glimpse, a large lad with a shock of rumpled brown hair and an open honest smile. Understandably his perception didn’t dwell on firm thighs or other physical attributes that had Bethany so in raptures. What’s more