It couldn’t be true. She never left things to the last minute, but each day, more and more men had come to her office and wasted her time. Deadlines were getting harder to meet, but she would never actually miss one.

“That cannot be right.”

“Go check for yourself.” Mr. Broadcreek put an arm out. “I would be happy to escort you.”

And have him gloat over her humiliation if he was correct? Never. Her reputation as a businesswoman would be shot if she couldn’t complete the line on schedule. Without an upstanding business record, would Parliament even grant her an act to build another line? Despite the chill in the office, a bead of sweat formed at the back of her neck.

“No, Mrs. Oliver will accompany me as always. Perhaps you are wrong.”

“For your sake, I hope I am,” Mr. Broadcreek said, but his eyes gleamed as he said it.

Diana opened the door and motioned for him to leave—something she should have done over an hour ago. She shut the door behind him and bent over, taking deep breaths through her nose.

“Would it be so bad if the order was late?” Mrs. Oliver asked, hastily putting on her coat.

Diana pressed her hands to her temples. “I could rush the shipping.”

“So it wouldn’t be so bad.” Mrs. Oliver plopped her bonnet over her graying hair.

“We don’t have the capital to pay for rushed shipping on an order that large. I used most of what I earned from Barton Rail to buy Richardson Rail. And the Richardson Rail budget is slim until we get that line up and running.”

“Well then,” Mrs. Oliver tied the knot of her bonnet under her chin, “hopefully Mr. Broadcreek is wrong.”

Diana peered through the front window. He was gone. “We will talk on the way. If they really are closed, we will need to come up with a plan to raise a substantial amount of money by Monday.”

They had not gone a block before Mr. Keaton with his hair freshly combed and a flower in his buttonhole stepped in front of them.

Diana didn’t acknowledge him. Quickly pivoting, she didn’t even slow her step. She had declined his company on her walk home three times this week, and she didn’t have the time to decline him again. Mrs. Oliver muttered an apology under her breath and then caught up to Diana.

With each step toward the ballast office, Diana’s stomach tightened. Blast every single one of those men. If they wanted a rail company so badly, they should learn to work and build one. That was what Nate had done.

Unfortunately, there weren’t many men like her brother around London.

Mrs. Oliver’s steps matched her own. “You could always ask Mr. Barton for some money.”

“There is no time for that. He is in Baimbury, and we would need the capital in just a few days.” Ask her brother Nate? Never. He was finally living his dream of bringing their estate in Baimbury back to productivity. It was Diana’s turn to shoulder the burdens in London. If she made the slightest reference to having troubles, Nate would be on the first train back to London.