Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 174 – Tea Time

A few hours later, Evelyn and Ian are seated in front of the fire in the parlor, apparently having a perfectly pleasant, if perfectly quiet, day. She sits on a chaise lounge close to the warmth, quietly peeling an orange and looking at a home and garden magazine.

Ian, on the floor, works to put together a children’s puzzle. Once, just once, he looks up at his mom, his face a little pained.

She gives him a wink and a little smile, letting him know that she knows he’s bored. But still, they have roles to play. He sighs and turns back to his boring puzzle, wishing he was doing anything else.

As she waits for the next shoe to drop, Evelyn patiently mulls over the information that Ian gave her. What the hell was Victor even doing?

It was clear, from what Ian had said, that Victor had somehow decided that now was the time to move on Willard and Walsh, to declare official war against them and take it to the battlefield.

But why now? She grits her teeth silently, frustrated. His little plan for pack dominance actually conflicted with her own. It had been her plan – and Emma’s and Delia’s, of course – to move today to take over the Walsh pack.

But nooooo. Victor had to interfere.

She supposed, ultimately, that she didn’t care who deposed her father and Joyce – as long as they were deposed. Still, things were changing – Victor’s choice had changed things. She had to get in touch with Emma and Delia to let them know that the situation had changed, if not the plan itself.

And, she had to get in touch with Victor too, to let him know that if he’s going to move now, then he needs to move now. The one piece of the puzzle that Victor doesn’t know is his extreme advantage in this moment, when Joyce was out of the picture.

If he waited – even a few days – he could lose that advantage. Evelyn sincerely hoped he didn’t – the fact that Joyce was still missing meant that Delia and Emma had him trapped. But Joyce was wily – there was no guarantee that they could keep him trapped for long.

Still, to get these messages out without risking her father suspecting it was her that did it? Their timing had to be perfect. So, she and Ian would wait.

As she finishes peeling her orange, Evelyn considers her son, playing with the puzzle on the floor. It’s far too easy for him – he’s taken it apart and put it together about three times – but he’s being such a good sport. She can’t help smiling at him then, her little sneaky squirrel.

She pops a slice of orange in her mouth, considering their choices. It was a sticky situation into which they’d gotten themselves – an unexpected battle was coming, and it looks like they were going to be at the middle of it, which is precisely where she did not want her child to be.

a fight for its future, then perhaps his place was right here at the center of everything. And then her place was right next to him, helping him to sort through it

wondering if Victor made the same choice with Alvin, keeping him by his side. Alvin would be terribly jealous if Ian got

door opens, then, and a maid wheels in

Evelyn says, raising her eyebrows. “Did we

says, shooting her an apologetic look. “Your father asked that this be

sitting up straighter and shooting Ian a little smile. He flashes her a grin, excited. She had told him, earlier in the day, that if they just waited

walk

her father says casually, shooting her a glance. “I didn’t know you were in here. You may join us for tea,

He knew exactly where they were, had the tea

asks, dashing over to the cart to

says, frowning at the boy. “This is a classic English high tea. There aren’t any

eyeing the crisp little biscuits

for three. Ian opens his mouth to protest that he’d like to try a cup but Evelyn shoots him a look and he

back in its spot. “Why don’t you tell us

of her chair. “I don’t know what you mean, dad,” she

know your story,” Walsh says, his voice low. “Abuse, seeking safe haven. It’s just all a little convenient that you arrive just

gasps, enjoying the performance perhaps

the tea tray. They had decided, earlier, in the room, to stick to their original story: that Victor was cruel to them and that

glare at

all too neat. We know you’re up

feet and wandering over to the tea tray to claim her cup. Pouring in a little milk, she then settles herself on the ottoman at her father’s feet. “Have you considered that I have nothing to do with it? That he’s coming like he did last

nothing, studying her. Willard, however, is

is,” he barks. “We know that you’ve had something to do with