Free The Punishment of Ivy Leavold (Markham Hall Book 3) by Sierra Simone Page B

the party wish to protect their identity, I’m sure.”
    “Oh darling, I’m not planning on gossiping. I’m planning on participating .”
    A surprised giggle had forced its way out of me. “Esther!”
    She’d given me a look. “Being an old spinster like me confers certain privileges, you know. And being wealthy. No future bridegroom of mine would ever fuss about unstained sheets on our wedding night. Now, do you want the Persephone mask or the Aphrodite mask?”
    But even having Esther with me wasn’t enough to quell the nervousness bubbling in my chest. Ever since talking with Molly, I’d known I was ready to choose, ready to go back to the man I loved. But I knew him and I knew myself, and I would be lying to myself if I pretended that tonight wouldn’t test my limits, emotionally and physically. Because he was my teacher, and I his pupil, and he had proven over and over again that he took that role very seriously.
    There would be punishment. There would be discipline.
    And I was wet just thinking about it.
    “Ivy, stop fidgeting. You’re making me nervous.”
    “Sorry,” I said and she patted my knee affectionately.
    The Gravendon mansion was lit up magnificently as our carriage approached, gas lamps mingled with torches along the gravel drive, every window limned with golden light. When the wheels stopped, Esther bustled quickly out of the carriage, eager to get inside, but I waited a moment. I could hear the music and laughter from out here, and I wondered if one of those voices laughing was Mr. Markham’s. I wondered how I would feel riding home in this carriage tonight, after the party, or if I would indeed even ride in it. Perhaps I would go home with Mr. Markham.
    “Ivy, come on! It’s freezing out here.”
    I crawled out of the carriage, forced to accept help from the footman due to the voluminous dress my aunt had forced me into, and joined her, making sure my Persephone mask was still tightly tied around my head. Esther smiled at me under her partial mask and together we walked up to the door.
    Inside, it was just as loud and as bright as I’d expected. People laughed and danced, servants milled, and every corner was awash in bright colors, in gold and silver, in flashing jewels and gleaming glass. The guests and the house seemed one and the same, melded together by their vibrancy and wealth, and the two were inseparable to me as we walked further inside. These happy faces, these expensive silks, these large mirrors and these glittering chandeliers—it all seemed like a dream, too vivid to take in, too fantastic to believe. A fairy world that emerged only at certain twilight times, only to evanesce and vanish in the face of day.
    The Baron stood near the stairs, marked by his scarlet sash and air of authority. He was a tall man, with very broad shoulders and a very narrow waist—an athletic frame. A strong frame. He didn’t seem to be any older than Mr. Markham, but so much power and raw maleness rolled off him that one could not doubt that he was experienced. With money, with women, with life.
    He came towards us at once, and part of me wanted to step back, to bolt and run, rather than have to talk to this man, but Esther strode right up, all curves and satin and dangling blond curls. She looked beautiful, and the Baron did not miss it. He took Esther’s hand and kissed it, letting his gaze linger, and even with the mask, I could see the blush creeping up Esther’s face.
    “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he murmured.
    “I’m Esther Leavold,” she said. “I’m accompanying my niece, Ivy.”
    At my name, his eyes flickered with interest. “So this is the Ivy Leavold that has Julian Markham so taken?”
    Now it was my turn to blush. Did Mr. Markham really talk about me so often that my name was known to one of the peers of the realm? Or was it Silas who had told him?
    Either way, I could no longer hide. I stepped forward and gave a small curtsy.
    He turned his attention