The Greatest Showman #712 - Advance Warning

Keeley Hazell, a famous "football baby" in the Premier League, is a third-edition model with a stunning physique, often referred to as a "gift from God." For the past five years, she has dominated British adult entertainment magazines, consistently claiming the top spot, a feat that is nothing short of miraculous in the world of "football babies," where newcomers are constantly emerging.

It's no exaggeration to say that in the UK, there's probably no man who hasn't heard of Keeley; if they haven't, they would be laughed at. At least half of the men view her as the ninth wonder of the world, particularly her beautifully sculpted physique, which has become the dream of many women.

While this may sound dramatic, it clearly reflects Keeley's immense fame. Of course, she has also tried her hand at acting, playing some minor roles. However, in high society, such roles are typically dismissed with little attention. To the elite, an actor is merely a "player." Only someone of the stature of Judi Dench—who has won the Queen's Medal and been made a Dame—can truly hold a place in the upper echelons. What, then, of Keeley, the model-turned-actress?

Her presence at the Hurlingham Club, a prestigious venue, felt like a homeless person wandering into Buckingham Palace for the night—utterly incredible.

However, if we're being honest, the British royal family and aristocracy have had their fair share of scandalous figures—like Edward VIII, who loved his country but not its beauties, or Charles, who betrayed his wife and his mistress, preferring only his own company. Keeley's appearance at the club, especially with Arthur, seemed like a deliberate show of ostentation or, perhaps, a calculated jab at Renly.

Renly quickly caught on, recognizing that there was an unmistakable link between Arthur and Keeley, possibly orchestrated to provoke or humiliate him. Arthur, sensing Renly's unease, quickly explained, "Miss Hazell and I just met by chance." The unspoken message was clear: How could he engage in such petty schemes?

Keeley, always quick on her feet, seized the opportunity to interject. "Is Renly also an actor? That's rare. I've been studying acting myself, but I feel like I've made little progress. Perhaps I'm not cut out for it."

Keeley's attempt at polite flattery didn't go unnoticed. Standing tall, her presence was calm and poised, not relying on her physical assets but instead projecting an air of grace. She didn't force attention but carried an icy elegance that drew the eye—a kind of cool, enigmatic beauty. "I believe you're a great actor," she added.

Renly's lips curled into a slight smile. "You know what? I believe so too."

Although this was their first encounter, Keeley's compliment seemed more like polite flattery, which Renly returned with a touch of arrogance. His reply, brimming with confidence, subtly undermined Keeley's attempt at courtesy. As his gaze lingered on her, it was clear that his words carried a deeper meaning—perhaps to further provoke the tension between them and test the calmness of the onlookers.

Arthur, who had been observing, couldn't hold back a sigh. Damn Renly. Their banter, always so predictable, left him frustrated. Every time he tried to play his tricks, Renly turned the tables on him. Arthur couldn't help but feel like he was losing his touch.

Renly, sensing Arthur's growing frustration, might have been savoring the moment a little too much.

As Keeley began to leave, she gave Renly one last glance. With a soft smile, she said, "I'll leave now, to give the two gentlemen a little space." She then turned on her high heels and walked away with a grace that was impossible to ignore, her figure fading from view.

Though Keeley had been imitating the sophisticated upper-class mannerisms, there was something unmistakably naïve in her attempts. Her learning curve was still evident, but her skills hadn't yet reached the level where she could truly deceive the sharp-eyed aristocracy. They saw through it all.

At that moment, the waiter quietly approached and placed Renly's hot cocoa and a small glass of milk before him. With perfect timing, the waiter left, adding a touch of class to the exchange.

Neither Renly nor Arthur spoke as they sat in the quiet, knowing that everyone in the room was watching them. The presence of Keeley, Arthur's connections, and Renly's return had set the stage for gossip to swirl. Gossip, after all, is the lifeblood of the aristocracy. It's the way they pass the time, navigating through their otherwise tedious and high-pressure lives.

The late Princess Diana had captured the public's imagination for much the same reason. Not only was she a bridge between the royal family and the people, but her rebellious nature, her refusal to bow to the constraints of aristocratic life, made her a symbol of defiance. Her tragic death marked a turning point in how the royal family engaged with the world.

Arthur broke the silence, speaking without preamble: "Saturday night, George will be at Kensington at eight and leave at 8:30. Elizabeth will arrive ten minutes late, at 8:10, but they'll leave together. Alexander Hamilton is hosting a small warm-up party for the Hamiltons' 40th wedding anniversary."

Renly understood the message immediately. The Hamiltons, especially George, had no love for him. There had been conflicts in the past, and it seemed that Renly wasn't welcome at their celebration.

"So, what does this mean?" Renly asked, his voice casual. "Should I avoid the event, or are they asking me to make an appearance?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Both knew that George was hoping Renly would avoid the event entirely. The aristocracy wouldn't tolerate an encounter between Renly and George in the same public space—it would become a spectacle, a topic of gossip that would dominate conversations long after the event ended.

Arthur couldn't help but grin. "Are you kidding?" he asked, his voice tight. Renly simply shrugged, and Arthur rubbed his temple in frustration. "You know what you're doing and what you'll face. My job here is done."

Renly smirked and took a sip of his cocoa. "Remember to let Edith know. If she misses this, she'll be miserable for months."

Arthur's lips twitched. Despite himself, he was excited by the prospect of the spectacle, though he tried to hide it. Maybe he didn't want to hide it after all, not when facing Renly.

When Andre had returned from Hollywood, he'd commented on how strange the city was—on the one hand, it preached equality, but on the other, it had an intense yearning for aristocracy. At parties, the dynamics were fascinating. Arthur was eager to see for himself. "Is that true?" he asked.

Renly wasn't in the mood to entertain such questions. "Welcome to visit and see for yourself. I'm sure you can cross the Atlantic."

Arthur dropped his head in defeat, but Renly, ever the provocateur, didn't buy it. He finished his cocoa and stood, heading toward the door with an effortless grace.

As he walked, a few heads turned. His casual white shirt and jeans stood in stark contrast to Arthur's riding attire, but his poise and confidence made him the focal point of attention. Even in the midst of the high society's subtle chaos, Renly remained untouched, like a Muggle in a world of wizards—self-assured and indifferent to the drama unfolding around him.

And with that, he left, leaving the aristocrats to gossip and speculate.