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"Sure you aren't," William quickly retorted when Michael denied his affections toward the anonymous girl. "Why lie to me after all these years?" He rolled his eyes, chuckling. He then asked about how many times he'd bed his wife. "You are terrible, Kilmartin. How on earth are we friends?"

Alexander mentioned the Featheringtons, or at least Will assumed that was what he was talking about. "What of their dowry? Lord Featherington can hardly repay his debts." His eyes did not leave the redhead as he spoke. Will watched as she approached their party, along with two other courtesans.

William was well aware that this would not be a simple task. The pirates had taken over their naval ship and the Duke was left to fend for himself. The brutality of these ruffians held no limits. They would take what they could get it, be it gold or human life. It disgusted him. Perhaps the empire that he served and inherited from did the same, but this was a different matter. These men were only benefiting themselves.

His eyes locked with his when he inched closer, feeling the man's stale breath against his skin. There was no use in losing his cool, but Will was certainly trying his hardest not. What did they do to her? Was she safe? Had they assaulted her in any way? Jaw clenched, he continued his little staring contest with him. The wink, however, caused his feelings to run astray. "You son of a bitch," William hissed, ready to pull out his barrel and shoot the man in the head. Yet his weapons were not on him. "WHERE IS SHE?" He demanded yet again. "I have your coin, now reveal her whereabouts, or so help me God I will find her myself."

How could he have been so foolish? Why hadn't there been better security at their country estate? Why didn't their naval tactics work properly? That was all he was thinking of -- that and snapping the pirate's neck.

He was in the company of a merry and reformed rake. Will, on the other hand, was in the middle. Sure, he was to be married to the esteemed Marianne Talbot, yet he still enjoyed the legs of a woman, one of them being the reputable bawd, Isabel Mayfield. Knocking back a quick drink, he wrapped both his arms around his friends.

"Miss Bishop is my physician's daughter," William commented, peering at the baron. "Is she not below your rank, Dowd?" It may have been the liquor asking, but the Duke was sure it was true. "Alas, not that it matters," He tried to offer his friend some assurance. "She is pretty, indeed."

Glancing around the room, he saw a few harlots enter. "I am not entirely sure. I've had enough of brunettes." Elizabeth Davenport being one of them, a lady annoyingly on his mind.

Though he had work to attend, he'd leave it for the day after. For the time being, he would reconcile with his brother and spend time with the niece that he'd seen so little of. Before the season had begun, the Duke had spent most of his time in Wellington, barely visiting their estate in the city. In fact, he'd request that their mother and sisters ride to him, instead. There was much to be done and little time, especially after his late father's passing.

Too much pressure that he had to handle. It was required of him. Will had no choice, and he was sure his brother did not want to be in his position.

His heart swelled with felicity as he watched his niece react at the necklace that he'd bought her. William almost forgot that his eardrum nearly burst. "Of course you may wear it," The fair haired man grinned slightly, before offering his brother a small nod in return. It was nothing, really, and he desired nothing but the best for his niece. Reuben would have done the same for his future nephew and niece, or at least Will hoped so. Plucking out the jewellery from its box, he gently clipped it around her neck. "There." He rose from his kneeling position, dusting his pants off.

Glancing over at the bleating goat, he held back a grimace. Will needed to deal with his dislike if he was going to stay the night at Reuben's. For the first time in ever, he slowly approached the goat, reaching his gloved hand out and petting its head to quell its energy. Swiftly, he retracted it when the goat poked its tongue out. "Good God!" Calm yourself, man, it's only a goat.

Returning the laugh, the Duke returned, "I'm entirely in the wrong, Miss Thompson," Then she mentioned his hands. He paled, quickly removing his gloved hands from her sides. "I apologise." The apology quickly escaped him as he took a step back, peering around the room to ensure that no eyes were on them.

How foolish of him.

Perhaps he could ask her to dance to rectify the situation. "May I have the next dance?" Will gave her a small bow.

The reality was that he did not expect Marianne to be as attractive and amiable as she was. She had been mentioned by his mother, and that he should save a dance for her (or at least make her his first, as she was certainly at the top of his list for a possible future wife). Gliding through the dance floor, his eyes locked onto hers.

"Nonsense," William whispered, peering around the room. "All eyes are upon you and solely you," It was somewhat true. Either it was or he was seeing things. "The fuss certainly worked," He twirled her around before returning to their original stance. "You have managed to capture my heart and soul," It was the truth. A bit too soon? Maybe. "Have I done the same? There was hardly fuss with my valet, though." He chuckled.