The Gentlewoman (35 page)

The cunt proceeded to describe for the audience in detail how
Aidan raped, beat her and dragged her around, and then stabbed and slit her
father’s throat. Rory held her breath and closed her eyes for a moment before
taking control of her reaction.

“And then he turned his knife on you.”

“Yes.”

“Your husband wanted to kill you, Congresswoman?”

“Yes.”

“And you were pregnant with his child.”

The air escaped from her lungs and she swayed. Before she
could answer, the reporter looked into the camera and advised the audience that
they would be right back to hear more from Congresswoman Morgan.

Everybody rushed forward. Nicole began screaming at the
reporter while Jackson encased Rory in his arms. He yelled to get her more
water and give her air.

She breathed deeply, both hands braced on the couch cushion,
holding her up. Holy fuck. Everybody knew.
Everybody knew
. The thought
went round and round in her mind. She looked up and peered at Allison Roberts.

“Where the fuck did you get that information?” she rasped
hoarsely.

The bitch responded smoothly. “Isn’t it true?”

“That’s not the point,” Jackson’s publicist barked at the
woman. “This is highly unprofessional behavior. Expect a response from our
firm, as well as the congressman and congresswoman’s lawyers.” He turned to the
producer. “I’m sure
Dateline
will take issue. This was a setup!”

“This ends now,” Jackson seethed. “This goes no further.”

“No,” Rory breathed loudly, dropping her hand from her
forehead. Everybody fell silent and looked at her. “We can’t stop now; it’s
out. I have to deal with it,” she said, resigned.

“You don’t have to,” Jackson urged.

She looked around, meeting the faces of those around her.
Nicole looked almost as bad as Rory felt. She turned back to Jackson, who
looked wrecked.

“I don’t want anybody’s pity. That’s what I’ll have if I
don’t finish this.”

“Twenty seconds,” the director said flatly.

Rory looked around and nodded stiffly to everybody. She
straightened herself and took a deep breath. She stared at Ms. Roberts, who
blinked at her in return.

She narrowed her eyes and spoke slowly. “Hit me again,
bitch. Just remember, I hit back. Hard.”

As the cameras rolled on, Ms. Roberts continued tenuously.

Rory peered at her. “Yes, I was pregnant.”

“How far along was the pregnancy?”

Her hands curled into fists.

“Fourteen weeks,” she said quietly.

“Tell us what happened.”

Her eyes must have closed because she opened them and looked
at the bitch. The room spun on its axis, but she focused on the reporter and
answered in a smooth, clear voice.

“I never told him I was pregnant because I had found out
what he was. Dad and I were the only ones who knew. But somehow Aidan found
out. It angered him. He went crazy. He killed my father and then…and then he
said he’d correct my mistake…and he stabbed me in the abdomen.” She closed her
eyes again. “He stabbed me…over and over…and I felt him…taking my baby.”

“And what did you do?” the reporter asked quietly.

Rory’s eyes sprang open again. “What do you think I did? I
tried to protect my baby. I tried to get away, as I had all day. But he kept
stabbing and cutting me.” She was louder now and she felt Jackson’s hand again.
“He was cutting my baby…”

A sob escaped her throat as she continued in a stream of
words.

“I don’t know how, but I finally shoved a pen into his eye
and got away. He followed me and tried to strangle me. I got his gun from
behind his back and shot him. But I couldn’t save my father, or my baby…and I
have to live with that every day.”

There was a moment of silence before the reporter continued.

“And the fact that you can never have another baby.”

She breathed out and her shoulders dropped. She glared at
the reporter. “Yes.”

After it was finally over, they disconnected the microphone
from her collar and she stood. Speechless, she looked hard into Allison
Robert’s eyes before turning and walking off the soundstage. Jackson followed.
Nicole draped her coat over Rory’s shoulders and saw them silently to the
waiting car. Jackson held her in his lap as they drove away. She stared out the
window, her cheek against his chest.

He carried her into the hotel; neither of them cared how it
looked. Once inside he went into the bedroom and sat back against the
headboard, not letting go of her. They stayed that way until they heard
knocking at the door.

Jackson answered as Nicole and the publicist entered,
followed by Caroline from Jackson’s office. Rory could hear them mumbling from
the bedroom.

After a few minutes, the door opened and Nicole came and sat
on the bed, her hand going to Rory’s shoulder.

“I’m okay,” Rory said mechanically. She lay on her side,
staring at the wall.

“I’m so sorry, Ror.” Nicole was in tears. Rory couldn’t move
to make her feel better. She felt paralyzed.

“It’s my fault. I should have vetted the questions more,
insisted we review everything first.”

“It’s not your fault,” Rory murmured. “That bitch was trying
to make her career move. She wouldn’t have been honest with you anyway.”

Nicole laid her head on Rory’s shoulder. Rory wished she
could move or say something to assuage the guilt her friend was feeling. But
she just couldn’t move.

They stayed still, leaning against each other. At some point
Jackson came in, sitting on the bed. Nicole sat up and looked at him, wiping
her eyes.

“Landon’s here,” he said quietly.

“I don’t want to see anybody,” Rory murmured. Jackson rubbed
her back.

“Hello, dear,” Landon said from the doorway. “I’m sorry to
intrude, but I wanted to check on you.”

He came forward and Rory finally turned. She eased herself
up against the headboard. Nicole and Jackson gave them some privacy.

He sat on the bed and placed his hand over hers. She stared
at her lap.

“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay. I know you’re not, not
really,” he whispered. “And that’s okay. You don’t have to be. But you will be
someday.”

She remained silent.

He spoke gently. “Rory, your father was the best friend I
ever had. Besides my wife, he was the closest person in the world to me. We
knew each other better than we knew ourselves.”

She looked into his eyes, the mention of her father drawing
her.

“Will Morgan was my brother.”

Tears entered her eyes and he turned his body toward her,
their faces inches apart.

“So I know this to be true; I want you to remember what I’m
telling you. Your father would be damned proud of you, Rory. Damned proud.”

Tears ran down her cheeks. She stared at him. Her chest was
stricken with pain.

Landon continued. “You did well today. You did nothing
wrong. There’s nothing wrong with the world knowing a little something about
what happened to you and your dad. I don’t want you to beat yourself up over
this. Your dad would be proud. I’m proud.” He took her in his arms, tucking her
under his chin and holding her tightly as she cried.

Rory and Jackson woke on Friday and she let him cancel her
day. She had no desire to see or be seen by anyone. She lay in bed unmoving for
a good portion of the morning. She didn’t have an appetite when Jackson ordered
breakfast. She felt guilt at the concerned expression on his face.

He worked on his laptop next to her as she lay in bed. When
his phone rang for the tenth time and he moved into the outer room to take the
call, she got up and started a shower. It wasn’t because she particularly felt
like showering but more so that she wouldn’t hear what he was saying to his
lawyer on the phone. All kinds of lawyers were involved. Apparently it had been
obvious to all who watched that she had not intended to spill beans of the
pregnancy or her subsequent barrenness.

Dateline
was willing to do anything to make it
better. Their public statement had included the fact that they would never have
aired a live interview had they known the deceptive intent of the journalist
with whom they had contracted. They were appalled, as was the rest of the
country, at the cheap shot that had been aimed at a member of the United States
Congress.

Every news channel and outlet had at least made mention of
the interview. Most papers carried headlines on the story. Allison Roberts’s
career hadn’t been made; it had been lost. The whole country was incensed for
Rory and well wishes were pouring in.

Of course Rory knew this only because Jackson had gently
told her so. She hadn’t read a word or looked at a television. But he wanted
her to be prepared for how widespread the reaction was. The only other person
she spoke with was Devon, and not much even to her.

The only thing Rory wanted to know was where the reporter
had received her information. The lawyers and Jackson wanted to know too. As
did the FBI director and Secretary Reynolds. That had been classified
information. They needed to know how it was leaked.

Rory was dealing with herself internally. Her old friend
PTSD reared its ugly head and she was continually sick to her stomach from the
mixture of adrenaline and anxiety. She felt ashamed and embarrassed. She knew
it was irrational. She hadn’t caused those things to happen. She appreciated
that thought. She knew it had been placed in her head by Jackson. If only her
heart would believe what her head understood.

Along with shame and embarrassment came a healthy dose of
grief. The feelings came rushing back, as if she had just lost her father and
baby. Depression threatened to take control. She realized now how much she
unconsciously held her left wrist because every time she grabbed it she was
distracted by her beautiful engagement ring. She might have lifted her lips in
a fraction of a smile at that realization.

By Sunday Rory knew Jackson was the smartest, most intuitive
man who had ever existed. He insisted they go to Nicole’s for dinner. He
wouldn’t hear of her staying in bed or in the room for another minute. He went
drill sergeant on her ass and forced her to shower and dress.

She closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face as they
drove to Virginia. It was a cold February day but the sun was shining and
bright. It might have lifted her spirits a fraction. She looked at Jackson
behind the wheel and took his free hand. He looked at her and smiled and she
might have smiled back.

They exited the car and she noticed two sets of agents
parked in the road to guard them. She didn’t care to ask why the extra agents.
She shoved her hands in the pockets of her peacoat and leaned into Jackson as
he put his arm around her.

They were greeted warmly. All the kids were there as well as
Landon and Rita. They were ushered inside and she was passed from hug to hug.
The kids were glad to see her and it helped to see them. They told her their
latest and greatest news of school and sports.

The boys eventually ran off and people began to relax. Rory
followed Jackson into the living room. She stopped on a dime.

The baby was sitting on a blanket surrounded by toys. As
Rory entered he pushed himself to standing with his chubby little hands and
wobbled slowly over to her.

She fell to her knees. “Danny,” she gasped. “You’re
walking.” She didn’t know why this affected her as it did. As he toddled into
her outstretched arms, she couldn’t stop her tears from falling. She closed her
arms around him tightly and began to sob.

Everyone stilled as she hugged and rocked the baby. She held
him tightly, smelling his baby smell and feeling his precious weight. After a
moment, she caught herself and pulled back. She placed Danny back on his feet
in front of her and wiped her face.

She sniffled and smiled, tapping his nose. “You’re such a
big boy. Walking all on your own.”

Little Danny giggled and clapped, turning precariously and
making his way to the blanket. He chose a plastic ball and threw it to her. He
fell hard on his diaper-padded butt, and they both laughed as they rolled the
ball back and forth.

Jackson knelt down beside her and she quickly hugged and kissed
him. She gave him a smile as she caught the ball and rolled it back to Danny.
She didn’t know why she felt better, but she did. And she noticed she was
starting to feel hungry.

Rory returned to work. Although she was nervous about
enduring people’s reactions, she was actually comforted by the support she
received. Strangers up and down the halls smiled and nodded. Her colleagues
overtly encouraged her.

Many calls were received requesting Rory to collaborate on
policy or programming. She could never consider so many. They were from both
sides of the aisle. She was left feeling very melancholy. She was happy and
amazed that she wasn’t being pitied but also wondering if those offers would
have been made without her new celebrity. She tried not to dwell.

The paparazzi shadowed Rory and Jackson almost as closely as
their agents. Both had become old quickly and she was tired of living in the
hotel. She wanted to go home to Jackson’s place. She never wanted to go back to
hers. She decided to put her condo on the market as soon as she could.

After all the fuss, both she and Jackson were disappointed
that there was no visible light at the end of the tunnel. There had been no
further activity around their building. Nobody was even spotted following them.
Without the slightest bit of interest shown, Rory wondered aloud if they had to
continue with the agents assigned to them. She thought perhaps with all the
publicity that Roan had decided to drop that hot potato. Jackson wouldn’t allow
a change yet.

Jackson was happy that slowly but surely he got his Rory
back. The salty, funny, sexy girl that he knew and loved, over time, came back
and stayed. It had been touch and go there for a while. He had been worried.
She had been so hollowed out by that interview. But she fought her way back.

He especially knew this to be the case when, on a night he
returned late to the hotel after a party meeting, she was awaiting him with hot
massage oils and wearing a hotter negligee. She stripped him of his suit and
treated him to a full-body massage, including a happy ending. Very happy, and
more than once.

“I love you,” she whispered, as she oiled up his back again.
“I can’t thank you enough for standing by me. You didn’t sign on for all this
trouble.”

He reared up and captured her mouth with his to silence her.

“You’re so much trouble, baby,” he quipped, rising over her
and pressing her back into the mattress. “I should punish you. But first…” She
moaned as he began rubbing the oil over her breasts, pinching her nipples and
sucking them into his mouth hard, his hands smoothing lower and lower.