Curse of Rose de Winter

Chapter 44

As Dylan was burned quite badly we stayed away from his room. After Vaughn drove Irene and I back we heard from the doctor who treated Dylan that he'd need to return and see how his burns were. There were blisters.

Sarah could've ruined my future, but Dylan was there in time.

Was I grateful, even to such a despicable person?

Yes.

I learned that Austen and his family were coming over again in a week. Claribel made her arrival back the next day. Scarlett spoke to Claribel in the parlor room in a hushed voice.

"Poor boy's face is now ruined. Seeing him makes me somewhat uncomfortable..."

Scarlett caught my eye and let her eyes wander again, but I didn't mind her honesty for once.

Was this the so-called karmic retribution he deserved? I had always believed fate will punish us, maybe because from the moment I played along with Dylan and Vaughn I had a darker motive. Similarly, so did Dylan.

How similar were we?

Although Dylan wasn't accepting visitors I knocked on his room and entered.

He laid on top his covers, as it was getting warm, and yet he wore no shirt, as his skin there was burned.

I had thought boiling water would do less, but it was blistering at parts and other parts looked like they had already blistered and died.

His face, too, was strange to look at. Dylan seemed ashamed and wanted to hide his face.

"Stop, don't move," I said.

Awkwardly he placed his arm back down as I closed the door behind us and I walked back to him.

The red skin on his face seemed to have blistered and other parts were still red. It looked painful, and I thought of The Phantom of The Opera. The poor man was ugly and always hid behind a white mask. Would Dylan now also be a ghost and hid in this crooked mansion?

"Why did you do it?" I asked. "If Sarah's plan had went well, I'd be yours. I'd be an ugly girl afraid of being homeless and marry you gratefully. Or does a girl without beauty mean nothing to you?"

Dylan's unburnt half of his face was frowning.

"Why do you think so cynically?" he asked in return. "It was merely a reflex, I hadn't expected boiling water, the maniac, I thought I would only take the bunt of a teapot. If I knew I would've just pulled you back or pushed the madwoman down."

"You're still you, always thinking of things you could have done better or differently, even injured like this." I smiled at the bantering we hadn't done in so long, it felt.

"Now I'm ugly I must be like Auguste or some old lecher bounding you to me." He sighed.

"You will heal after a month, the doctor said, don't be dramatic," I groaned.

"I'll have my face and neck dark and discolored, and my hand and arm may hurt if I wear sleeves or hold a pen." Dylan sat up, wincing as he did. "Can I ask something I've been waiting to ask?"

"I thought we had the most thorough questioning done last week during someone's secret being found out," I said jokingly. "Ask away."

"Rose, did Auguste really help you?"

It was so simple of a question, and yet so obvious.

He was jealous.

This whole time, he was still jealous of his father's relation with me and yet he carried it as he hastily hurried to Hughes and spoke to Vaughn. Was that where he messed up? By being too blinded with love and rage?