“What are the two of you whispering about?” Plate in hand, Mama took her seat, and a footman placed a pot of tea at her elbow.

“Almack’s.” John practically choked out the word. “St. Albans said we need vouchers. How does one obtain a voucher if it is required?”

His mother gave St. Albans a beatific smile. “His lordship is correct. Vouchers are required. Fortunately for you, I obtained them from Lady Jersey.” She dipped her spoon into a coddled egg cup. “I have been meaning to ask if you would attend. I suppose this means you would like to.”

“Yes.” John felt a little bit like a child again. “I would. I have asked Lady Eleanor and her sisters if they would like to stand up with me.” He glanced at his friend. “So has St. Albans.”

“How aforehand of you.” Mama gave them an approving look. “Will you ask any of them to waltz?”

When John had thought about dancing with Lady Eleanor it was always a waltz. “Of course.”

“Hmm.” His mother picked up her cup and gazed at him over the rim. “You do know that in order to waltz with a young lady who is just out, you must be recommended by one of the Patronesses?”

Ask one of those gorgons? He wouldn’t do it. From the corner of his eye, he could see the smirk on his friend’s face. John just managed to resist running a finger under his collar. “Er, no. I was not aware of that requirement.” But if he didn’t ask, he wouldn’t be able to waltz with Lady Eleanor and some other gentleman would. He’d be stuck with a country dance or something.

Mama set her cup down. “I will help you if you wish.”

Bloody hellhounds. He swallowed, hard. “Yes, if you would not mind. I appreciate the offer.”

“It is no problem at all.” She gave her hand an airy wave.

It occurred to him that for his conversations with Lady Eleanor he needed to know more about flowers. “Can you tell me when lilacs bloom and if we have one?”

Next to him, St. Albans scoffed. “Is that what you discussed with Lady Eleanor?”

“Naturally.” What else would John speak to her about? “You are the one who told me to appear to be innocuous.”

“Ah, yes.” St. Albans’s tone was as dry as John had ever heard it. “Such scintillating conversation one has when one is pretending to be dull.”

He decided to ignore his friend and looked down the table at his mother. “Lilacs?”

She had a strange glint in her eyes but merely said, “Yes, we have two of them. They are just budding.”

“Thank you.”

St. Albans pushed his chair back and stood. “Thank you for breakfast. I believe I am to attend my mother this morning and afternoon.” He looked at John. “Shall we meet again tomorrow morning?”