There might be the slightest smirk that crosses Milady's face; she can still read him, though perhaps a little less accurately like this. That expression and the blush, however, is hard to miss.

Now, Athos? Really? She doesn't look away. She remembers too. Sharply and well.

"d'Artagnan," she drawls. Won't that be fun. But she shrugs. Why not. "Where's his room?"