Aimé had found ammusment in the ride, if not in the sport it's self. He found it too demonstrative, too violent for his tastes. He dismounted, stroking the horses soft nose as he waited for a servant to collect the animal from him.
"My Lord," He called to Hurst. "I'm afraid I must decline the offer of the shoot. The food looks to devine ignore!"
He felt slightly self-concious, as if simply by saying that he had put himself apart from the men of the hunting party and firmly with the women but he didn't care. His legs hurt from riding after such a time spent out of the sadle and if what Lord Hurst had intimated to him in the stables was to be the course of action for tonight he could not allow himself to be over-strained.