Well into her cups, she had forgotten that d'Artagnan had spoken of Aramis telling him what had happened between them once they had been free of Marmion. Where in the intervening time he had arrived from was still in question, her thoughts not even leaning toward the possibility that perhaps he could have come from after her and the Queen.

She patted his arm reassuringly, smiling softly at him and his thanks. Her cheeks warm for it, pinker still then she had already been painted by her drink. "I only did what was right," she demurred, but met his eyes evenly as she told him, "I will look after them however I can, Aramis."