"No," Emily looked bewildered, "My father has never set foot there. Perhaps a servant or two for the butcher, but even then, all orders were delivered here. His business is with the museums and within the Bazaar." And to her knowledge, that much was true, but if her father was found in the tenements, who knew what sort of people hung around there. Her father was indeed into something devious, and apparently whatever that was, it got him killed. She just wished she knew what.
As soon as the knight spoke, Emily stared at him again, this time her face contorting in horror. She gasped loudly, "What?" Immediately her hand went over her mouth and her body froze up. It was partially an act, but another part was her actual reaction. Emily could be cruel, she could do some really low and horrible things, hell, she even killed someone and felt no remorse for taking that life, but prostitution with minors? There was a line to be drawn, and yes, Emily drew a line. Children.
"How old?" she asked in a whisper and her other hand wrapped around her stomach as if to quell some need to vomit, "How many? Oh heavens, no, he wouldn't. My father, he encouraged me to help children. Whenever I asked him to donate money to an orphanage, he was always so willing. He said that they deserved a chance. Surely, you must be mistaken. It cannot be the same man. It must be someone else." She shook her head as if in denial.
"It's impossible," she even let out a half-convincing laugh, though there it was a little higher, "No, not him. Have you ever my father? No."