Chapter 2
In the corner of the luscious green gardens, close to a large square-shaped swimming pool, the Trastamara children had all gathered. The only son, John, was laughing freely and at the same time talking to his younger sisters. The young man was brown-haired, quite tall, with a medium build. A characteristic boyish smile was almost always present on his handsome face. Three of his siblings were standing around him. Isabella Aviz, the eldest one, had become more distant in recent years. Was the cause her cold and restrained husband, perhaps?
"Oh, how wonderful it is to be home!" John said aloud and started to inhale the fresh, summer breeze.
"Home, sweet home! All of us together here again!" He stated, glancing briefly at Isabella who stepped away a little.
"Well, four incredibly beautiful, grown women," John pointed out at his female siblings, "And me! An extremely handsome, courageous and awfully intelligent man!" He tapped his dressed chest. There was a serious look on his smooth face.
"And it's a shame that you're still single, brother." The older sister proposed a silent toast and then took a sip of her drink.
"Our Izzie, snappish as always. Take care of your own marriage." Joanna responded, hugging her older brother.
"My relationship is quite perfect. But sadly I can't say the same about yours, Jo. That terrible womanizer is flirting with another woman right now. I told you that it wouldn't be a good match but unfortunately you didn't want to listen."
Joanna Habsburg, an incredibly pretty and elegant woman and the mother of two small children turned her head in order to look at Philippe. She was madly in love with her husband and though his affairs were notorious she didn't even want to hear about a divorce. The woman had swore to herself that she would die in her husband's arms, but apparently Habsburg wasn't going to die in Joanna's.
The brunette stiffened immediately at John's side. Her gorgeous husband had put another invisible needle into her huge, loving heart and if it could, it would bleed profusely, full of open wounds which hadn't had time to heal. If not for John who had hugged her tightly from behind, she would have run in the direction where Philippe was whispering something into a feminine ear. Her brother's chin was resting on Joanna's bare shoulder. Her long, silver gown was shining in the artificial light of the lamps.
"Stay calm, be bold and then nothing is going to break you, as our mother always says."
John was trying to soothe his sister's nerves but her entire body was trembling horribly. The rest of their siblings, including Isabella, were watching the scene with tangible sorrow. The youngest one, Katherine shared a special bond with Joanna as she was her favorite sister besides Maria and that's why her elegant, feminine form had started to burn from its center. Katie, kind, sweet Katie wanted to slap her brother-in-law across the face with all her strength.
"I'm fine, John. You can loosen your grip over my waist. And I won't stand your compassion anymore. It happens. Alfonso is so distant and extremely cold that you can freeze in his presence and my Philippe is a hot one. Too hot. He is filled with a fire that could burn a man. And as you see, I'm really tan." Joanna was trying to be funny but it was obvious that she was devastated. She had tightened her fists so hard that her knuckles had turned as white as milk.
"I will fetch you a glass of your favorite wine to prove my goodwill, sister. You must have a drink." Isabella added after a few seconds and then went in the direction where a long table covered with a valuable, elegant cloth was settled. Different kinds of the finest alcohols were available in order to please the most important guests.
"I suppose it's high time to change the subject, don't you think?" Katherine voiced the first sensible thought that had come to mind. John slowly released Joanna from his grip and came closer to the youngest of the Trastamara children, tangible adoration present on his merry face.
"I always said that this girl is as smart as the devil. I remember when you were a baby and the three of us would lean over your blue princess cradle to look at your petite form with utter interest. Only Maria was upset because she couldn't reach our level being two years old." The siblings burst out into hysterical laughter.
"I wanted to marry her in adulthood! And unfortunately Maurice will take my place."
"Your jokes are disgusting, Johnny. And still I like them!" Maria Aviz said to her older brother who blew her a kiss.
"By the way, don't you think it's odd? Katherine and Maurice as spouses? It's like you are going to marry your own brother." Maria was sincerely concerned about Katherine's happiness. She and her husband, Manuel had fallen in love with each other freely despite the fact that Ferdinand was the one who had organized their first meeting. The redhead felt embarrassed for some reason when it came to talking about her unique bond with her best friend.
"Don't exaggerate! Maurice Chapuys is a good match. Especially for Katie. My passion for Philippe was as strong as a hurricane and now I'm a wronged wife. Passion fades." Joanna responded, placing her hands over her wide hips. A sad smile was plastered on her soft lips.
"Yeah, I have to agree with Jo." John said after a minute of considering different options.
"Joanna isn't objective at all. She ships them. You can't tell me that you chose Katherine and Maurice as the godparents for Charles by accident!" The brunette pointed out being completely satisfied with herself.
"Well, it's a very practical solution. All of us are well aware of the fact that they will be together anyway." Mrs. Habsburg stated and started to become impatient, waiting for Izzie who had gone to bring her some delicious wine.
"Your way of thinking is invalid, sister," Katherine noticed, "John and Margaret are the godparents of little Eleanor although they don't like each other. When it comes to me and Chapuys – we aren't engaged yet." Kate observed resolutely.
"John is fond of Margie, he acts like he doesn't like her but it isn't the truth." Maria Aviz smiled slyly in the direction of her brother. She wanted to see him be happy with a kind, loving woman.
"Let's change the subject, girls. Look, Katherine, your suitor is coming over. He's charming, isn't he? That elegant black suit, expensive white shirt, lack of tie and shiny, leather shoes. The perfect man for my baby sister." John pointed out at his childhood friend with both of his hands.
"Yes, I admit it. He looks good. I love him in my own way. And who uses the word suitor these days anyway?"
"I like to use ancient words and phrases... And I'm not ashamed of myself for my preferences."
The four of them started to laugh while Isabella came back to where they were gathered, two glasses filled with the finest of alcohols in her feminine palms.
"I'm curious why you all dyed your hair? All of us always had a wonderful auburn color..." Katherine couldn't understand why her sisters didn't like their natural hue.
"Excuse me! I have never been a redhead. Thank God! Red isn't a color, it's a temper! And as we all know I'm a serene, compliant and very handsome man, son, brother, uncle, whatever.."
"Why are you all so merry?" Isabella asked, completely surprised.
"What did you expect? Should we all be in despair because you were gone?" Joanna joked, taking her drink from her sister.
Henry Tudor, the boss of the criminal underworld took a glass of whiskey from a waiter, looking with curiosity at the crowd of elegant people, dressed in their expensive crisp suits and velvet designer dresses, gold Swiss watches sitting on their wrists. Tudor's faithful companions were at his side as always; George Boleyn, the husband of his first cousin, Jane Parker, whom he had married in order to get more respect and financial benefits and Charles Brandon, Henry's right hand, a young lawyer who was excelling in this prestigious field of humanities.
"Why are you so thoughtful, boss?" The young Boleyn asked, taking a sip of his strong drink.
"I must say Ferdinand has decent taste but is this the best my money can buy?" Henry asked sarcastically, playing with a glass in his right hand.
George and Charles couldn't help laughing.
"Decent taste? Are you serious? He has the finest wines, the finest food and the finest guests!" Brandon exclaimed enthusiastically, pointing at a long table filled with food.
"And the finest chicks..." Boleyn added, gazing at the crowd, hoping to find a woman who was just waiting for him to come and ask for a one night stand.
"I could do better. I'm interested in one woman in particular." The boss answered, sipping his whiskey, looking straight at a dancing Katherine.
"Which one if you don't mind me asking..." Apparently George had failed to find a new lover among these sophisticated and rich women, becoming interested in his boss's words.
"The redhead over there, standing with that dark-haired gentleman; Ferdinand's youngest daughter. I recognize her from the photos on the wall. She looks even better in person." Henry pointed her out with his chin, then looked at his silk tie.
The hit-man glanced at the young woman, skepticism visible on his face.
"She isn't my type but I wouldn't mind sleeping with her anyway." He dared to say, furrowing his forehead.
"You're gross, George." Charles answered with disgust present in his deep voice but the corners of his mouth twitched. It was obvious the lawyer was amused.
"Happily, she is my type, George."
"Unhappily you aren't her father's type, boss." Young Boleyn decided to counter-attack his employer verbally, smiling presumptuously. Henry smiled back, showing his perfect white teeth.
"You see, George, that's part of the fun." Tudor only said and then glanced at the undoubtedly expensive crystal glass which he was holding elegantly. The cold, noble liquid barely covered the bottom of the glass. He shook it delicately to mix the rest of his drink.
"George, don't exaggerate! Ferdinand is greedy, he would sell his own mother if anyone wanted to buy her! Yes, I have heard, he is really fond of his children, of this daughter in particular but... He still owes Henry money..." Charles Brandon said his own piece, though he wasn't really interested in the conversation. Maybe he was thinking about the love of his life who seemed to be within his reach... Who knows...
"Don't fall in love with her, Henry! Otherwise you could lose your cash." George was trying to be reasonable – and that fact was terrifying, like the perspective of spending all night in the forest, completely alone. The eldest of Thomas's children and common sense put in the same sentence? That's an oxymoron.
"Don't be ridiculous, George. I'm not going to fall in love with her. Business is business." The boss of the English mafia responded, a sarcastic laugh escaping from his perfectly shaped mouth. Henry put his left hand into the pocket of his black Armani suit – he seemed to be bored with the whole situation, looking bluntly at the view in front of him.
Maurice had asked Katherine to dance the tango with him – Isabella, a dancer by profession, had decided that all of her siblings should learn how to dance, at least that wonderful, passionate, Argentine dance. Maurice had always been like another brother for the Trastamara children, so he had learned along with them.
Katherine was in Maurice's arms, dancing gracefully on the wooden dance floor which her father had ordered built for that occasion. The silver booties on her delicate, feminine feet were moving rhythmically while the orchestra played a variety of instruments. Her long, green gown, made of valuable, silk fabric, fortunately wasn't an obstacle for her casual treading. The heels of her leather shoes tapped on the floorboard, the sound drowned out by the waves of sophisticated music. Katherine's dress was draped nicely around her perfectly shaped body. It had to be an enticing view for the men in the audience.
Boleyn and Brandon glanced over their shoulders, following Henry's hungry sight which was focused on the voluptuous feminine form of the redhead who was enjoying herself on the wooden dance floor with her partner.
"Yeah...But you are going to invite her to your bed, aren't you?" The most talented hit-man in the world asked the question, though it was merely a rhetorical question because all three men already knew the answer.
"Perhaps. I can imagine poor Ferdinand's face..and that only gives me more incentive to do so." The mobster's gorgeous face in that moment was the epitome of cruelty and amusement. He didn't like Ferdinand Trastamara and wanted to tease the poor, old man – no matter what kind of action he would have to take. Using Ferdinand's beautiful, graceful daughter sexually could be the best option and the most pleasurable.
"I'm curious about one thing..." Henry's fiancee's brother hadn't been able to remain quiet longer than a few short minutes.
"About what?" Unexpectedly, Tudor's best friend regained his senses which had seemed to be lost in a daydream, full of women, of course.
"Do you think that she likes what our boss likes the most?" The man again wanted to be funny. Such a pity that what he found amusing wasn't always funny to the people around him.
"And tell me, George, what do I like the most?" Henry inquired with honest curiosity shining in his intense blue eyes.
"Well.. you like being pleased...?" It was obvious that the sweet brother of Henry's future bride hadn't thought for long before this troublesome sentence escaped from his mouth.
"You have no tact, George." Brandon admitted, shaking his head before taking a sip of his drink. He liked acting like he was a saint himself, particularly standing next to that sinner – George Boleyn. Though Brandon wasn't a good boy at all.
"You really don't. I suppose I'll find out." Henry voiced his thoughts, not breaking his eye contact with the scene in the middle of the gardens, filled with loud music, performed by an orchestra.
George glanced over his shoulder, covered with his leather jacket, to look at Katherine once again with a grimace on his face like the dancing woman was a monster – making sure that his specific speculations were true.
"I don't think so. She surely doesn't like that kind of activity..." He spoke, still following the graceful moves of the dancing couple.
"And what? You can tell just by looking at her? Come on, George." The boss scoffed, laughing throatily at his companion's words.
"Yes I can! The first time I met your cousin - my beloved wife - I knew: she didn't like that!" Young Boleyn exclaimed, not embarrassed at all. He didn't bother considering other people's thoughts about his inappropriate attitude at such a sophisticated party as this one.
"Yet, you married her anyway. Clearly, you had other priorities." Tudor reminded him.
"You wanted me to marry her, so I did. To tell you the truth I'm not especially fond of her but I know you love her and it was a kind of social promotion for me..." George was trying to explain his resentment towards Jane Boleyn nee Parker. His face became red. Apparently embarrassment overwhelmed him completely.
"Well, you must cope with it, man!" Brandon said his own piece, raising a glass to George before drinking the rest of his wine, taking one immense sip. An evil smile was glued to Charles's handsome face.
"Surely the financial benefits were enticing too." One of the most dangerous mobsters in history said absentmindedly. His head seemed to be occupied with something else other than the conversation with his friends. But this fact didn't make George feel less embarrassed.
"Henry, she finished her dance. That's your chance!" Charles became tired of talking about George's arranged marriage and his miserable life with adorable Jane – that's why he decided to wake Henry up from his lethargy. Despite the fact that young Tudor was looking straight at the red-haired figure, Brandon had the impression that his best friend wasn't aware of that.
"You're right. Excuse me." He handed his drink to Charles and strode confidently across the room to where Katherine and Maurice were standing together, having finished their dance.
"Excuse me, Madame. You're an excellent dancer, I must say. You have my compliments." He said smoothly and with his polished grace.
Katherine looked over at him with curiosity. He was a handsome man, there was no doubt about that, with his intense blue eyes that were staring into her own unflinchingly and without any hesitation and irresistible, kissable lips set into an aesthetically pleasing face. He was the picture of cool elegance and sophistication in his sharp, black Armani suit; a man who was no doubt used to such refinement and who wore it well, like a second skin.
"Thank you, sir. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name." She replied gracefully, tilting her head slightly to the side, still looking at him with interest and curiosity though it was hidden behind a mere politeness.
At once he was apologetic and offered her a smile, an effortless twist of his lips, but for some reason it made her heart race, her blood flow faster.
"I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself first. Henry Tudor. Nice to meet you."
She offered a quick smile in return.
"Katherine Trastamara, nice to meet you too, Henry, if you don't mind me calling you that. This is my best friend." She pointed at Maurice standing by her side, looking over at Henry. There was something in his eyes, a certain protectiveness towards Katherine as he looked at him.
"Maurice Chapuys." He stuck out his hand, offering it to Henry to shake.
"Not at all, if you don't mind me calling you Katherine." He turned to Maurice, shaking his hand, ever the gentleman. There was something familiar about the young, handsome, dark-haired man that Henry couldn't quite place at first, until it hit him.
"Nice to meet you. Chapuys, are you Ferdinand's accountant's son?" There was almost a hint of disdain in his tone that could be subtly detected if one listened carefully enough. The accountant was at least more sensible than his employer but still, he worked for Ferdinand.
Maurice smiled faintly and nodded. He had listened carefully enough. "You make it sound like a despicable thing to be, but yes, I am my godfather's accountant's son."
"I thought so. I can see the resemblance." Henry simply replied. There was something he didn't like about the dark-haired man but he couldn't figure out what yet.
"And you are this Tudor the heir, aren't you? I had the pleasure to stay at one of your hotels. Excellent service, I must say."
Well, at least he has good taste, Henry thought.
"Yes, that's me. Thank you. My family takes great pride in our hotels." The mobster had inherited a line of successful, luxury hotels that attracted the cream of society upon his father's death and he took pride in having made them even better. He was not only skilled in his family's messier business but he was also an excellent businessman.
"That is something to be proud of, Henry." Katherine replied, watching the interaction between Henry and Maurice.
"Certainly. Does your family take pride in other businesses of yours? I suppose that it does." Maurice returned coolly in a not so subtle hint at his blood-stained line of work.
Katherine laughed at that.
Ah, a reason had just presented itself to Henry for his dislike of Eustace's son. He smiled but his blue eyes had hardened ever so slightly.
"I suppose you're right, Maurice. I certainly do." Henry had never been one to feel ashamed of what his family did for a living but he didn't appreciate the reference coming from Maurice.
Katherine looked from one man to the other. "Maurice, don't be so rude towards our guest. What he does for a living is his private business. Not yours. You're our guest, dear Henry but I'm not able to recall your surname on our list which I assembled myself." She said, trying to keep the conversation amicable.
Henry smiled."I suppose I'm a last minute addition. I came to visit your father, a recent friend of mine and he asked me to stay and enjoy this lovely party of his." It was more accurate to say that he had invited himself to this lovely party against Ferdinand's wishes and that "friendly" meeting they had shared in his office was still fresh in his mind, bringing him some measure of amusement.
"So I hope you're enjoying our humble party. I'm certain you have been to the finest parties which I can only imagine."
"Don't be so modest, Katie. You're high class." Maurice reminded her.
"I am, thank you. It's hardly humble and this conversation has certainly made it even more enjoyable." He said, looking straight at her, leaving no doubt as to who he was referring to.
"Oh, so are you implying that my friend is a really lovely person? I have to agree. He is. Though he can seem rough a little." There was a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips.
"I'm sure he is, but I was talking about you."
"It's a pleasure to hear those words coming from a man like you." A man she was sure knew the effect he could have on women and one who surely had no problem finding someone to warm his bed.
Henry raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "A man like me? And what kind of man is that?"
"I think women can find you attractive. And I'm talking about your indisputable intelligence." For Katherine was sure that besides his good looks he had a sharp, calculating mind. It was easy to see in the way he observed people, with a sharp eye and no doubt sharp perceptions.
He dipped his head in acknowledgment of her words. "Well, I can say the same about you. Anyone can see that you're an attractive, intelligent woman, a very talented dancer as well."
Katherine let out a laugh, an airy, light sound that was pleasing to his ears. She wondered how many women he had told that same line to. "Are you trying to flatter me? My sister is an excellent dancer, a dancer by profession. I'm only a sinologist."
"It doesn't matter what your profession is, I know a good dancer when I see one." He insisted.
Katherine arched an eyebrow, her head tilting to the side. "Now, I'm curious about your dancing skills."
"Ah, they are sharper than your previous partner's, I'm sure." He couldn't help saying. He knew precisely what his skills were and he had no problem talking about them, giving him an air of arrogance.
"Are you so sure of your talents?" Katherine asked. She didn't find his arrogance very becoming, the opposite in fact.
His lips tugged into a smirk. "Oh, I'm pretty sure. Just name the dance." He held out his hand to her.
"I think you should choose. I'm afraid I will make a bad choice and then your indisputable talent wouldn't turn out to be as spectacular as you like to boast about."
An amused laugh escaped from his throat. "You let me worry about my indisputable talent, Katherine. I see your tongue is as sharp as your dancing. Very well. The tango."
"Is that the only dance you're able to perform?" She would enjoy bringing his confidence down a level or two.
Henry was almost tempted to say that he could teach her a very different dance, much more intimate than the tango and one that involved less clothing but he held his tongue.
"Why? Is it a problem? Is the tango too intimate?" He inquired, waiting for her answer, the hint of a challenge dancing in his intense blue eyes.
"Of course not!" Came her response. Katherine was not willing to back down from this challenge.
"Then, shall we?"
"Yes." She placed her delicate hand into his as he lead her out onto the wooden dance floor. The orchestra struck up a tango, the rhythmic and lively sounds of that passionate dance filled the room as the other guests turned to watch the performance. Their feet moved in a quick but graceful unison as their bodies came into close contact. Henry could feel the heat radiating from her body when she was in his arms and he could smell the sweet scent of her perfume and it was intoxicating. It almost made him lose his focus but not quite. He was able to keep pace with her perfectly. Meanwhile Ferdinand had come into the garden, noticing the pair dancing, his forehead covered in sweat. He was worried about his daughter. The last notes of the music were played and fading, the dance coming to an end. Henry turned to Katherine and placed a kiss on her hand.
"Thank you for the pleasure of this dance, Katherine. I trust it was performed to your satisfaction?"
Katherine smiled faintly, coolly. "I wouldn't be so sure in your place."
Henry didn't bat an eyelash at that remark, remaining the composed gentleman. "Ah, well, I suppose you'll have to teach me the art of the tango then."
"I doubt I will have an occasion for teaching you the art of the tango. You'll have to find another teacher, Mr. Tudor." Katherine said formally in a distant, dismissive tone.
"That's a shame for I enjoyed dancing with you, Ms. Trastamara. My younger sister is a dancer, but I doubt she would be much help with the tango; she's a professional ballerina."
"She won't be helpful indeed. My sister and her husband have a dance school, maybe they will give you some advice if you ask." She suggested to him.
"I think I'll take my chances with the skills I already have. Is that your father I see coming over?" Henry asked as he spotted Ferdinand coming toward them. He almost wanted to smile in amusement. He assumed the man was nervous about him conversing with his youngest daughter and the thought that this was causing Ferdinand stress gave him pleasure. Maybe it would hasten the older man to his senses and he would give his money back sooner.
"Yes, that's my father. I assume you would like to come with me and say hello since you're friends, wouldn't you?" Katherine asked him, glancing over at her father.
"I would love to." He simply replied and she had no idea how much that was true.
They came closer to Ferdinand. Henry smiled at him, a hint of the amusement he felt played in his eyes.
"Look who I met, father. It's your recent friend, isn't it?" Katherine gave her father a genuine smile, coming to stand beside him.
Ferdinand started to become nervous, anxiety clawing in the pit of his stomach but he was trying to hide it. He didn't want his daughter to think anything was wrong and become alarmed.
"Yes, I see. Good evening, Henry. I hope you're enjoying my party. And where are your companions?" he looked around for the two men anxiously.
"Hello, Ferdinand. I'm enjoying the party very much, thanks to your lovely daughter. I'm afraid I've lost track of them. No doubt they are around, enjoying the party and chatting with your fine guests." He said amicably. He was enjoying watching Ferdinand squirm.
Ferdinand embraced Katherine tightly, which was a message for Henry while Maurice was standing there looking thoughtful. Isabella, Katherine's mother, noticed her husband and came over to all of them, full of curiosity.
"Good evening, sir. I noticed all of you talking and I decided to come and introduce myself because I believe we don't know each other yet." She said delicately. She was a woman of grace and poise, still beautiful even at her age and her elegant bearing commanded respect.
"Yes, darling, this is my recent friend, Henry Tudor. I forgot to mention him when we were assembling our guest list." Ferdinand told his wife, trying to remain calm.
"Shame on you, husband!" Isabella admonished her husband, smiling at Henry.
"Indeed, what a shame Ferdinand. You should have introduced your lovely wife sooner. It's a pleasure to meet you, Madame." He said smoothly, dipping his head in greeting. It was said that the only person Ferdinand feared more than Henry was his wife and Henry could see why. He sensed that Isabella was a cunning and formidable woman.
"It's a pleasure for me as well, Mr. Tudor." Isabella had the faint recollection of reading about him in the newspapers but she didn't let it show and remained polite, "I saw you dancing with my daughter." She looked at Katherine.
"Yes. She's a great dancer, though I don't think she was very pleased with my dancing." Henry admitted to her.
Isabella looked from Katherine to Henry. "Why is that?"
Katherine smiled faintly. "Mr. Tudor lost his modesty somewhere. He is too blunt. Aren't you?"
"Don't be so hard on him, darling. A man should know his own worth. Isn't that what I always taught you?"
Katherine nodded. "It is, dear mother. But you also taught me that sometimes I should put my own pride and arrogance in my pocket." She told her.
Isabella smiled at her proudly, a light coming into her eyes when she looked at her youngest daughter.
"Oh, I take great pride in all of my children. I wish you the same, Mr. Tudor, when you become a father one day."
"I hope your arrogance won't be an obstacle in finding a wife." Katherine told him sharply, meeting his eyes.
Ferdinand and Maurice only smiled with satisfaction.
"Such a sharp tongue my daughter has!"
Henry locked eyes with Katherine and smiled faintly. She might have intended the opposite but the sharper her tongue was the more he desired her.
"Indeed, Mrs. Trastamara. I don't think it's much of an obstacle, I haven't heard any complaints. My other, more favorable traits seem to make up for that particular flaw."
"I'm happy to have met you, Mr. Tudor but now, excuse me, my guests are waiting for me. I hope you will join me, husband, in a while." She said, looking at her husband.
"Of course, sweetheart."
"It was a pleasure, Mrs. Trastamara." Henry placed a light kiss on her hand.
Isabella walked away and then John came closer, a glass filled with wine in his hand.
"Good evening, sir. I believe you're this businessman, Henry Tudor, aren't you?" He asked, looking at Henry with curiosity, dressed in his elegant suit for the fine occasion as all the guests were.
"You're right. Henry, this is my son." Ferdinand introduced them warily.
"John Trastamara, nice to meet you." He held out his hand.
Henry shook his hand politely."Nice to meet you too, John. Your father throws quite the party, doesn't he?" He said to make polite conversation, despite the fact that he thought Ferdinand had only decent taste.
"Yes, he does. Nice dance with my sister, I must admit."
Katherine became bored and annoyed with the conversation and she wanted to say goodbye but then Joanna and Philippe started to argue loudly, drawing everyone's attention to them. Before the redhead was able to finish the conversation with a recent friend of her father in a proper manner, the chaotic screams had erupted into the air.
Joanna started to shout wildly at her unfaithful husband who again had tried to seduce a young woman, this time it was the daughter of Ferdinand's friend, a very powerful and significant friend.
"I'm not going to tolerate your cheating anymore. The cheating which you're doing in front of my family and my parents' friends! How could you, Philippe?!" She cried pathetically, grasping her husband possessively by his satin tie. Habsburg removed her delicate palm violently and then tightened his grip on her waist.
"Stop making a scene! Nobody wants to see you crying about my affairs, your father in particular since you have dared to offend his goddaughter!" He whispered maliciously straight into her ear.
"I don't care if she is my father's goddaughter or the Mother of God! As long as she is willing to open her legs for you, I hate her, I despise her! Do you hear me, Caroline Harrison?!" Joanna turned her head in the direction where a group of guests were gathered.
"We were running around together in my parents' gardens but I despise you, you shameless whore who wants to take my love away from me! You have slept with him already, haven't you, you blonde trollop!?" She wasn't able to control herself. She had evidently drank too much.
Philippe grasped her arm, digging his nails into her rosy skin. Joanna only laughed aloud like a madwoman. Salty tears appeared in her shining eyes, eyes full of hatred towards every strange woman in the garden.
"Are you well and truly drunk that you don't even feel the pain, wife?" His teeth were clenched tightly in anger which was shaking his masculine body. "How could you drink so much wine?! You are breastfeeding your little son, don't you remember, woman?!"
Joanna Habsburg burst out into rampageous laughter.
"I don't breastfeed him anymore. I've lost my milk because I was too stressed to keep it! And of course you didn't notice being too busy fucking your vulgar secretary!" She started to sob loudly, resting her head on his wide arm, wrapped in the black expensive fabric of his elegant, designer suit. Hot tears were running down her red, unhealthily warm cheeks, soaking her husband's clothes. Philippe became resigned and loosened his grip over her arm. Fiery red marks were visible on Joanna's uncovered body, caused by Philippe's violence.
"Sometimes I would like to..." He started, however he wasn't able to finish the sentence because Joanna interrupted him.
"What? Slap me?! No, I want to slap you!" She slapped her husband as she said she would while he stood humbly, hardly touching her free hand. She also punched him in the chest and he didn't respond to that action in any way. Joanna was beating Philippe profusely going into a rage again.
Ferdinand, who was standing beside Katherine, face to face with his friend who in reality was a dangerous enemy, seemed to be worried about his older daughter. He was also ashamed of himself because of the names which Joanna had dared to call innocent Caroline.
"John, help your sister, please. She isn't doing well."
"Of course," he handed his drink to Maurice, "excuse me."
John didn't hesitate a moment, came closer and at first started to shout at Philippe, who abruptly walked away. He covered her with his own marine suit jacket and then kissed her on the forehead.
Isabella the mother quickly found herself beside her dear daughter, embracing her with a mother's love.
Henry at first didn't know if he should laugh at this weird situation which had taken place in front of him or if he should feel annoyed.
The one feeling which acclimatized in his heart – because he had a heart against common belief – was sympathy for this poor, beautiful woman who suffered due to her husband's actions.
How ironic! He himself wasn't without sin – he cheated on Mary Boleyn frequently and what was worst of all – with indisputable pleasure.
A worried frown had appeared on Katherine's face, as she was concerned about her sister's wellbeing. "Well, I have to go as well."
"Of course. Goodnight, Katherine."
"Goodnight." She took Maurice by the hand and he wasn't able to say goodbye. Kate went over to her sister, comforting her with an embrace.
Ferdinand and Henry stayed alone.
"Leave her alone, Tudor." he only said and walked away.
Henry only laughed at that, watching him walk away. What a strange and interesting night, he thought.
