A/N: A fanfic based loosely on the Showtime series, The Tudors, starring Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, Natalie Dormer, and Henry Cavill. Just as the series took historical liberties, so too will this story. Unlike the series where Charles Brandon marries Catherine, his young ward, this story follows his entirely fictional relationship with Jane Stafford. While I have tried to research as much about the time period as I can, I am sure there are some historical errors. Please do not take any information contained within this chapter or any others as historical "fact."

Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk and closest friend and confidant of Henry VIII, was as well known for his good looks and charm as he was for being a notorious womanizer. Not even out of his twenties, he had already bedded and wedded the Princess Mary Tudor, the late sister of his majesty and rumors abounded about the scores of women he had not only deflowered but those with whom he had engaged in extramarital affairs as well. His reputation for absolute lust and desire for carnal pleasure was second only to that of the King himself. With the death of the Princess, he was ever more present at court, allegedly on the hunt for a new conquest to whet his insatiable appetites.

It was rumored that good King Harry was pressuring his dearest friend into a new match. People speculated that this had less to do with the King's desire to see his friend happy and settled and more to do with his desire to please his latest paramour, the Lady Anne Boleyn, who made no secret of her loathing for the Duke of Suffolk or his closeness with the King. The feeling was largely murmured to be mutual though Suffolk would never say as much in public for fear of displeasing the King whose temper was famously unstable.

When the letter arrived at Grentham Hall, it was a cold and dreary November day. Jane, eldest daughter of the Marquess of Hampshire, had seen the rider approaching and based on the livery and the sudden bustle and flurry of activity that immediately took place, she could only imagine that the letter was coming directly from the English court, perhaps even from the King himself. Finishing her morning repast, she rang for her lady's maid who assisted with attiring her and with the styling of her hair. Once completed, she retired to her study where she began to read. It was only a few moments later when her brother, William, eldest son, three years her senior, and heir to the family fortune burst through the door.
"Father's had a letter," he began.
"I saw the rider come up the path. Who was it from?" she asked.
"The King. He's sending the Duke of Suffolk and several other nobles to stay here on their way to the North."

She said nothing, waited for him to continue. Despite their close relationship, despite how freely they spoke with one another, he was still her brother and the heir and there were rules that governed their every interaction.

"Father is already ordering the servants about, demanding the finest wines be brought from the cellars and that the best tableware be taken out and cleaned in preparation. He's looking for you, insists that he needs you to take all of the arrangements in hand."
After the death of their mother three years earlier, Jane had become the lady of the house and whenever they had guests or entertained it inevitably fell to her to be sure that everything was prepared to her father's exacting standards.

"How much time are we to have?" she asked.
"They'll arrive before nightfall in two days and stay for a week."
"Two days? William, that's impossible. However are we going to get everything done in time?"
He took her hands in his own, "If anyone can accomplish it, it's you dearest sister," he said, "And now, I really must go, Father's put me in charge of overseeing all of the sport."
She nodded, mind spinning with all the things that needed to be done.
"Oh and Jane," he said, turning back to her, "We're to have a masque and the King asks that all of the loveliest maids of the land be invited to attend."
Of course he had, she thought to herself. He's sending Charles Brandon and hopes to keep him entertained with the daughters of Earls and Counts.

The herald had arrived shortly after dusk, announcing the impending arrival of the Duke of Suffolk and his other traveling companions. Her father, Edmund Stafford, had been made a Marquess by the King's father. He had fought alongside both the old King and the new King as well as with Charles Brandon, then a mere untitled friend of the King. Beside her father, stood her brother, resplendent in his finest clothes. She was slightly behind William in a gown of cream, her dark hair curled and brushing her shoulders, a small coronet of pearls wound through her hair. Behind her were their other siblings, sister, Anne, brothers Thomas and Edmund, and sister Lucy. The baby, Henry, only four, was in the nursery with his governess.

The men rode into the courtyard and she saw William give a quick, reassuring smile in her direction which she returned. Suffolk was first off his horse, greeting her father heartily and embracing him like an old friend. He turned to William, embracing him. She had forgotten that they too, knew each other from the days William had spent at court before their mother's death.
"Your grace, may I present my daughter, the Lady Jane Stafford," she heard her father say and she curtsied low before him.
"Your grace," she said softly, rising and raising her eyes to his.
The twinkling mirth of his blue eyes, the mischievous grin, the curl of his brown hair all stole her breath away. She had heard of his good looks, but now, standing before him, she was suddenly taken aback.
"Lady Jane," he greeted, voice low, a whisper over her skin.
Her father continued on with his introductions and then led the men into the house as the rest of them trailed behind.

They had laid out a spread to rival the ones at court and gathered around the table, the candlelight flickering around them, William nodded in approval at all of his sister's hard work. The food was superb, the décor exquisite, fit for the King himself. He knew she had worked relentlessly over the past two days, knew she had barely slept as she planned menus and entertainment, written invitations to all of the noble families in the area inviting them to the masque in three days time, not to mention overseeing all of the cooking and cleaning and the schedules for the younger children.
"Well done," he complimented in her ear as she sat beside him. She looked lovely in her cream gown with her dark hair curling softly. She reminded him so much of their mother; beautiful, intelligent, sharp witted, and far more independent than she let on. He knew she needed to be married, knew his father was searching endlessly for the right match, knew they were both reluctant to let her go. There had been a brief engagement when she was eighteen but it had ended when their mother fell ill and their father realized he needed her at home more than he needed a dowry. Now, she was nearly twenty-two, a virtual old maid by the standards of the day and it was becoming more and more pressing to have her married and settled, even if it meant losing her.

He wondered if there might be a man among those seated at the table tonight. In addition to the Duke, there were a handful of Earls and several Barons. More than half were already married but there were several who had been widowed and still a few more who had not yet married at all. Reaching for his wine he noticed the Duke of Suffolk, seated across from her, was staring as she conversed with Lord Pole who was seated next to her. Charles' eyes met William's after a few moments and he could have sworn he saw a flicker of embarrassment cross the Duke's face. Later, as everyone began to retire to bed, he saw Suffolk standing near the door watching as she curtsied to each guest and said good night. And if William hadn't known better, he may very well have guessed that Charles Brandon, famous scoundrel, was taking an interest in his sister.