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A thump outside jarred Georgie awake, sending tremors of pain to her wrists and ankles. Had they come back? Terror overrode the burning sensation in her limbs. She forced herself to sit still.

In between grunts and thuds, someone whistled a popular love song. Upon reaching the chorus, his baritone voice broke into song.

Her eyes don’t shine like diamonds,

She has no golden hair.

I know she loves me dearly,

Then what more need I care.

Frowning, she squinted, trying to see out the open window overlooking the porch, but her fire still burned, making it impossible.

With a smile she always greets me,

From her I ne’er will part.

He paused, letting out a grunt as if he were lifting something, followed by a whoosh of air. A loud thud signaled the dropping of something against her cottage.

For lads, I love my mother,

And she’s my sweeeeeet-heart.

He began to whistle again.

Mustering up her courage, she drew in a breath. “Who’s there?”

All sound and movement ceased.

Her heart began to hammer. “Who’s there?” she asked, raising her voice even more.

“Georgie?”

Relief welled up inside her. “Luke?”

Heavy footfalls clomped up the steps and to her window. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What are you doing?”

His shadowy form was obscured by her lace curtains. “I’m leaving you a Mai tree. But it was a surprise. You’re supposed to be asleep.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Help me, Luke. Someone broke in.”

“What?”

“Someone broke in.” Her voice cracked. “I’m tied up. Please. I need you to—”

She never finished her sentence. He burst into her bedroom, took one look at her, checked behind her door, then rushed out to check the rest of the house. The fire highlighted a multitude of empty hatboxes and lids strewn about her floor. The lingering smell of burnt fabric stirred her emotions.

“They’re gone,” she called, choking on the last word. “They’ve been gone for some time.”

He returned, kneeling before her and slicing her pillow slip with a knife from his pocket. “What happened?”

Pain flared through her wrists and spread to her fingers as blood rushed back in. She tried to choke back her cry, but couldn’t completely muffle it.

He sawed through the stocking around her ankles. “What the blazes happened? Are you all right?” He whipped up his head. “Did they—”

“They burned the hats.” The horror she’d been holding inside spilled over, bringing an ocean of tears.

He spared no glance for the boxes strewn about the room, but kept his attention solely on her. “Did they hurt you?”

“A little. When I fought. But mostly it’s my hands and feet that hurt.”

Grimacing, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the living area. The switchboard lay on its side, a sad hulk in the darkness. “No! Oh, Luke. Look what they did.”

“Shhhh. I’ll fix it.” He set her on the couch, then disappeared inside her bedroom, returning with her coverlet. He tucked it around her body, his movements swift but gentle. “Tell me everything.”

With broken sentences, she told him all that happened. The more she talked, the more her body began to tremble. It refused to stop shaking. She looked at it as if it were not her own.

Scooping her up, he pulled her to his lap, blanket and all, then tucked her head beneath his chin. He smelled of soap and rainwater.

“It’s okay.” He wrapped his arms around her as if he could will her shakes away. “They’re gone now. You’re safe.”

Both his words and his embrace brought warmth and relief, triggering fresh tears. Not only for herself, but for her hats and all they represented.

She still couldn’t make sense of it. Why would Frank Comer burn her hats? Why would he act so dishonorably toward a woman? What on earth did he have to gain?

She knew of only one person who would benefit from the destruction of her hats. Ernst Ottfried. Had the milliner put Comer up to this?

Luke kissed her scalp, rubbed her arms and legs through the blanket, and rocked her like a baby, his touches bringing comfort