He renewed filling out his form, the scratches of the pen tapping a furious beat. “I would very much like to meet the owner.”

Diana pursed her lips. The man seemed to know there was a new owner of Richardson Rail. He may have even known it was a woman. Based on his excitement to meet the owner, he must have known it was a single woman. Why did he not expect it to be her? He must have thought her too young. It wasn’t as if she was a child; she was twenty-two years old for heaven’s sake.

Which, admittedly, was quite young.

But still, did she seem so incompetent to him? Or was she misjudging him somehow? Did he not know at all?

“It would depend on her schedule.”

He didn’t look up in interest at her use of the feminine pronoun but kept scratching away. It was one thing to be pursued because of her ownership in the company but quite another to be completely looked over as incapable.

“I could come back anytime she was available.”

She bit her tongue for a moment, but the pain did nothing to diffuse the steady fume rising in her chest. “No need, Mr. Winston. You are speaking to her now.”

His pen paused, and his head jerked up as if pulled by a puppeteer holding strings above him.

“I am?”

“Yes.” His shock was not surprising, but it didn’t help the buzz of anger stirring in her chest. She had helped Nate for months before taking over parts of his business, and before buying Richardson Rail, she had operated solely on her own for weeks. She was capable.

Mr. Winston’s eyes roamed the room around them. “Mr. Richardson passed away not long ago. How is it that you are the owner?”

“I bought it from Mrs. Richardson. It was a bit much for her to handle while in mourning.”

“I was sorry to hear of his passing.” His demeanor changed. His head bowed, and he wouldn’t look her in the eye. “His marriage to Mrs. Richardson was a happy one?”

Other than Nate and Grace, it had been one of the happiest she had ever seen. She glanced at Mr. Richardson’s old desk. Mrs. Oliver sat there now. The few months that she, Nate, and Mr. Richardson had worked here together had been some of the happiest of her life. “It was.”

“How is she faring now?”

How was she faring? That was a difficult question to answer and not a topic she wished to discuss with a stranger. She wished she knew herself. For the past month, Charlotte hadn’t had to deal with any railroad issues, but at home, she was still listless. “She is taking comfort in her children.”

He nodded and picked up his pen again. At last, he reached the question she had been waiting for. He answered without pause.

Unmarried.

With all of his questions about the owner of the company, and almost none about the business, that answer was the final nail in Mr. Winston’s coffin. She reached into her desk and pulled out her charcoal drawing of Lord Bryant. She hadn’t managed to get his perfect Roman nose just right, but other than that, she was quite proud of her depiction of him. She placed the frame on her desk, brushed an imaginary speck of dust from it, and sighed heavily.