Byron would never have been caught. Law enforcement and carrying out prosecution in the early 1800s in England left much to be desired. Being of Noble birth, only his peerage or higher could bring any charges against him. The man had been born to the correct time period for the sociopathic tendencies he had to take place without much care. As long as he had not killed anyone of the peerage, slaves and house attendants could disappear and no one would care.
So many men of more emotion felt that being the dominant, aggressive one in any interaction made for the stronger participant, but Byron found it better to control such men by giving them the control and playing it to his liking. Much like he had the last time they crossed paths. So the vampire's distaste for him in one aspect was gained in the fact that Duncan played Byron's games and delivered the kind of pain Byron had no problem receiving as much as he gave.
Flicking his wrist, a blade appeared in Byron's hand from a hidden pocket up his sleeve. Without a second thought, he stabbed it into Duncan's side and waited for the reaction. Another blade was in his other hand, available to be taken from him and used in any manner Duncan wished. "Aye," he mocked. "I do."