Rose Banks knew as soon as the Vicarage door slammed shut that something was wrong. She had heard that sound too many times before. Her husband would be in one of his rages. As always, it would be best to keep out of his way until the morning. At least the children were already in bed so Percy would not take his frustration out on them. She looked at the picture of her and him on their wedding day. It was a different world and another Rose Steward who had married the dashing young curate she had fallen in love with so rapidly, so fully and so earnestly. She remembered that first Sunday at the family church in London. It had begun like any other morning worship. Then Percy George Banks had got up to preach the sermon.

For an instant, Rose felt the tingle of desire inside as she thought back...

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