The Greatest Showman - Chapter 1310: Tear Off the Mask
The soft glow of goose-yellow garden lights traced the contours of his chin, the curve of his lips, and the subtle rise of his Adam's apple. He looked effortlessly clean and composed—so different from the raw, explosive force he displayed on stage. Here, in this moment, he was gentler, quieter.
The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed faintly.
"Your Grace. Your Grace?" A deep voice interrupted her reverie. The words brushed against her ears, sending a slight shiver through her. Beatrice suddenly realized his gaze was fixed on her, bright and sharp, as clear as a cloudless sky. Her breath hitched.
A soft chuckle escaped him, the corners of his mouth lifting. "It seems our conversation is too dull. Someone got lost in thought."
His teasing was lighthearted, yet Beatrice felt the warmth creeping into her cheeks. She laughed heartily—perhaps a little too exaggeratedly—to mask her embarrassment. "Don't mind me. I have a terrible habit of daydreaming. I seem to be quite impolite today."
As she regained her composure, she became aware of the subtle shifts in the atmosphere.
George and Elizabeth stood nearby, close enough to signal familiarity yet maintaining a deliberate distance. Their expressions held traces of pride as they looked at Renly—as if he were the family's crowning achievement—but the tension in George's arm muscles betrayed something else. A flicker of discomfort. Awkwardness.
They were all too intelligent. And all too aware.
The Hall family's strained dynamic was no secret. Their bond, if it could be called that, was not one of love or even hate, but of strategic interest. A quiet chill lingered between them, an emotional void.
Beatrice felt a pang of sorrow.
"As we were saying earlier, I heard you enjoy the theater? You even visited the Almeida Theater for one of our performances. It's a shame we didn't meet then. Will you be attending the anniversary event?" Renly's voice was light and effortless.
Warmth spread through Beatrice's chest.
He didn't shy away from the past—didn't ignore the missed encounters—but he didn't expose her shyness either. Instead, he eased the conversation back to "Les Misérables," carefully navigating the moment with grace.
Elizabeth, standing beside them, stiffened. Her eyes flickered with unease, as if fearing Renly might peel away their carefully maintained facade. Only after he smoothly transitioned the conversation did her shoulders subtly relax. No one else might have noticed, but Beatrice did.
"Yes, of course, I'll be attending." Beatrice smiled brightly, steering the conversation toward safer ground. "I actually love your performances. Not long ago, my father and I were discussing it. He regrets missing your earlier shows—he's clearly fallen behind the trend! Now, he can't even keep up at family gatherings."
Family gatherings. The phrase hung in the air, deliberate and loaded. She was subtly signaling that even among the upper echelons, Renly was a topic of admiration.
Neither George nor Elizabeth let the comment slide.
Renly chuckled. "That sounds like a polite nicety, but I appreciate it nonetheless. Actually, I think 'The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time' is a masterpiece. If you get the chance, you should watch it. I had a conversation with Luke not long ago—he's truly an admirable actor."
"You've seen it too? So have I!" Beatrice's excitement flared before she caught herself, pressing her lips together in mild embarrassment. "Ah, there I go again, speaking without thinking. Maybe I should learn to hold my tongue."
Renly's smile deepened. "Then you must enjoy the theater's atmosphere. We always welcome all voices—even boos and scolding."
Laughter rippled through the group. Even Kate, who had remained quiet, chuckled softly.
But standing slightly apart, Elizabeth's posture remained rigid. Every second of this encounter felt like a slow, torturous unraveling. The tension between the Hall siblings burned beneath the surface. Would Renly finally expose them? Would he remind them of their past dismissals? Would he throw their opposition back in their faces? Would he declare, for all to hear, that his success had nothing to do with them?
The waiting was excruciating.
Yet he said nothing.
Renly simply remained—calm, unbothered, detached.
And that, more than anything, stung.
For all the weight George and Elizabeth had placed on their strained relationship, for all the years of control and manipulation, Renly didn't seem to care at all. Their nerves, their guilt, their vigilance—it was a joke to him.
George's irritation flared.
Elizabeth sensed it and, lifting her glass to her lips, whispered, "Every time Sebastian mentions plays, you say you like Shakespeare. Maybe it's time you embraced something new. You might even find a new hobby."
It was a subtle maneuver—an excuse for George's discomfort, a warning, and an attempt to reframe their past indifference towards Renly.
She even used Renly's middle name, "Sebastian," to emphasize their familial bond.
To an outsider, her words were nothing more than casual conversation. But to those attuned to the nuances, it was a quiet plea for control.
George exhaled, forcing a smile. He played along. But beneath the surface, his frustration simmered.
The calmer Renly remained, the more out of place they felt.
The more he acted like none of it mattered, the more they burned with shame.
And they couldn't show it.
"Damn," George swore internally, his fingers tensing, then releasing, in an unconscious display of his true emotions.
Across the garden, two figures stood on the balcony, observing the unfolding scene from a safe distance.
"I'm telling you, Renly won't do anything. He doesn't need to. Just being here is enough to torment George and Elizabeth," one of them murmured.
"I don't disagree. But George and Elizabeth will still think this is part of Renly's plan."
"If Renly had planned something, their suffering wouldn't be this mild. What do you think, Lord Arthur?"
Arthur Hall, caught off guard, stiffened. "Wait—do you think Renly can see us? I swear he just looked this way."
"God, no!" Edith whispered sharply, suddenly nervous. "We've been standing so far back! Renly shouldn't be able to see us. Jesus Christ, I just wanted to watch the drama unfold. First, we sneak into London, then we sneak into this dinner, and now we have to sneak around just to eavesdrop?"
Arthur smirked. "Secretly observing is the best way to enjoy the spectacle. Pity that Elf didn't want to get involved."
Edith shrugged. "Renly may not know we're here, but Matthew does. Do you think Matthew will tell him?"
Arthur hesitated. "Uh..."
Back in the garden, George subtly scanned the crowd.
Where was Viscount Bioford? Why hadn't he arrived yet?
The evening wasn't over, and George had the distinct feeling that the worst was yet to come.